


The P-Team and the Chamber of Secrets

by ScarletMarieLeaf



Series: The P-Team Collection [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-09
Updated: 2016-10-29
Packaged: 2018-05-12 16:41:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 8
Words: 55,460
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5673046
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScarletMarieLeaf/pseuds/ScarletMarieLeaf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Everyone knows about Harry Potter, the boy who lived, the Chosen one, the one to defeat You-Know-Who, but what if he wasn't alone in his quest, in his journey to defeat the Dark Lord? What if Harry had a life long friend that experienced everything he did, from the first attack to the Final Battle? And what if it was a girl?! How will this duo fair in life with having to deal with their foul Muggle relatives, the Magical World, and the Dark Lord that started it all? Will they be able to survive together and will their relationship grow or will they buckle under the pressure? Well, come inside and find out what's in store for the P-team on their journey.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Harry's Worst Birthday

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I Do NOT own the Harry Potter plot, storyline, or characters, nor do i wish to own them and take them from their rightful owner J.K.Rowling. All rights reserved to the author and the imprinter of the Scholastic Press, Arthur A. Levine.  
> Citation: Rowling, J. K. (Ed.). (1999). Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets (1st ed.). New York: Scholastic Press.

For the third time that week, an argument broke out over the breakfast table at number four, Private Drive, due to a early morning disturbance from the noises caused by the pet owls of myself and my best friend, Harry, which had awoken our uncle, Mr. Vernon Dursley a great deal earlier than he usually intended. 

“It’s the third time this week!” he roared at the two of us across the table, glaring angrily. “If neither of you can control those birds, then they’ll both have to go!”

Harry gave an exasperated sigh as he looked slowly at me, the two of us exchanging very tired looks as he tried, yet again, to explain. 

“Hedwig and Elon are bored,” he said. “They’re both used to be able to fly around freely at night. If we could just let them out after sunset –“

“Do I look like a moron?” Uncle Vernon snarled, the bit of fried egg clinging to his bushy mustache wiggling about as he spoke. “I know what the two’ve you will do if you let those owls out.”

He glanced at his wife, Petunia, both of them exchanging dark, knowing looks. 

I slumped back in my seat, blowing the wavy, brunette bangs from my eyes as Harry opened his mouth to argue back, only for his words to be drowned out by a long, loud belch from our cousin, Dudley. 

“I want more bacon.”

“There’s more bacon for you in the frying pan, sweetums,” Aunt Petunia said sweetly, turning shiny eyes on her massive son. “We must be sure to build you up while we have the chance….I hate the thought of what that school feeds you…”

“Oh, nonsense, Petunia, when I was at Smeltings, I never went hungry,” Uncle Vernon said with a hearty chuckle, smiling proudly at his son. “You get enough while you’re there, don’t you son?”

Dudley grinned back at his father, nodding his head, although I could hardly believe that to be true, considering he was so large he couldn’t fit wholly on his own chair. He turned to Harry and I with the same grin.

“Pass the frying pan.”

“You need to say the magic word first,” I pointed out as Harry muttered darkly under his breath, scraping his food around his plate and glaring at it all the while. 

This simple sentence was enough to cause a great effect on the rest of our family, however; Dudley gasped and tumbled from his chair, crashing to the floor with such force that the entire kitchen shook while his mother gave a little scream and clapped her hands over her mouth. Uncle Vernon was on his feet immediately, his face purple, veins popping in his forehead. I shrank away from him, covering my head while Harry jumped up, too.

“Chey just meant to say ‘please’!” he told him quickly. “She didn’t –“

“WHAT HAVE I TOLD THE TWO OF YOU!” our uncle thundered, spitting furiously like a snake. “ABOUT UTTERING THE ‘M’ WORD IN OUR HOUSE?!”

“But she –“

“HOW DARE THE TWO OF YOU THREATEN DUDLEY!” he roared, the plates and cups dancing as he pounded the table with his fist. 

“She wasn’t –“

“I’VE WARNED THE TWO OF YOU! I WILL ABSOLUTELY NOT TOLERATE MENTION OF EITHER OF YOUR ABNORMALITIES UNDER MY ROOF!”

I peeked up from under my arms, up at my purple-face uncle around my best friend, fighting the tears threatening to escape as I switched my gaze to my aunt, whole was pale in the face herself as she attempted to heave Dudley to his feet. Then my gaze lowered to the table and I had to swallow several times before I could control my voice enough to speak. 

“I-I’m s-so-sor-sorry, D-Dudley.”

With a loud huff and a soft creaking from his chair, Uncle Vernon had resumed his seat, breathing heavily as though he’d just been winded, although I could still feel his scathing gaze on Harry and myself as my best friend tried calming me down, gently wiping the tears that had gathered in the corners of my eyes and murmuring reassuringly. 

Things had been like this for Harry and I ever since we had come home for the summer holidays; ever since we had set foot back in the Dursleys’ home, our aunt and uncle had been treating the two of us like a couple of bombs ready to go off at any moment, for, you see, neither of us were any normal couple of kids. We were the furthest from normal as normal could be. 

My name is Cheyenne Power and my best friend, Harry Potter, and I were a witch and a wizard – still young, considering we had just come from our very first year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. And if the Dursleys unhappiness at having the two of us back home for the holidays were any indication, they couldn’t even begin to compare to how the two of us felt. 

Both of us miss Hogwarts, so much so it almost hurt, almost like a part of us was missing that we desperately wanted back. We missed the giant castle, with all its secret passages and ghosts, our classes, so full of magic and fascinating history, although our least favorite definitely had to be Potions, which we had to take in the dungeons with the Potions master, Snape. We missed having our mail arrive every morning by owl, eating amazing banquets in the Great Hall and getting to sleep in our own four-poster beds in our tower dormitories, going out on the grounds and visiting the Hogwarts gamekeeper, Hagrid, in his cabin alongside the Forbidden Forest. But what we missed above all else was the wizarding world’s most popular sport, Quidditch, which was played up in the air on broomsticks by sixteen players using four flying balls and six tall goal posts. 

The misfortunate didn’t stop for either of us there, however, as all of our spellbooks, our wands, robes, cauldrons, and top-of-the-line Nimbus Two Thousands had been confiscated from us the second we returned home and locked up in the cupboard under the stairs, which had previously been Harry’s room before we’d been allowed the small bedroom upstairs, by Uncle Vernon. The Dursleys cared little for our health and wellbeing, so it would matter little to them if we lost our places on the House Quidditch team because neither of us had been able to practice at all during the summer or if we got in trouble with all our teachers because we hadn’t been able to do any of our homework. In the wizarding world, those without a single drop of magical blood were what we called Muggles and the Dursleys were some of the biggest Muffles either Harry or I had ever known. And, according to them, having a witch and wizard in the family was what they considered to be a matter of deepest shame. Even Elon and Hedwig, our pet owls, had been padlocked inside their cages by Uncle Vernon, who’d wanted to stop us from trying to send any letters to anyone in the wizarding world. 

Neither Harry nor I looked anything like the rest of our family. Uncle Vernon was a large man with very little neck and an enormous black mustache; Aunt Petunia herself was really bony, with a horsey face and buck teeth; Dudley had inherited his father’s body type, making him look more like a big pink pig wearing a blond wig than a actual boy. Harry and I, on the other hand, both had thin frames, with Harry’s being on the smaller side, while mine was just a little bigger, leaving a noticeable height difference between the two of us. While he looked a great deal like his father with his messy jet-black hair combined with his mother’s brilliant green eyes, I had inherited my mother’s looks, my hair a dark, wavy brunette while my eyes were a plain hazel green. The only features my best friend and I had in common were the simple round glasses we wore and the identically thin, lightning-shaped scars on our foreheads. 

It was thanks to these scars that the two of us stood out from regular witches and wizards, however, as they were the only hints left behind from our similarly mysterious background and were the only indications to why we had been left on the Dursleys doorsteps eleven years earlier. 

When we were both only one year olds, Harry and I had both somehow managed to survive a curse cast by the greatest Dark sorcerer in history, Lord Voldemort, whose name still struck such great fear in witches and wizards everywhere that they didn’t even dare speak his name. Both my and Harry’s parents had died during Voldemort’s attack, yet it had been the two of us who had escaped with nothing but our lightning scars while Voldemort’s powers had been destroyed for an unknown reason when he failed to kill us. 

So, with our parents gone and no other relatives to speak of, Harry and I had been brought to our dead mothers’ sister and her husband, where we spent ten years being raised by the Dursleys, never truly understanding why the two of us kept making odd things happen without meaning to. We were even so clueless about our past that we readily went along with the Dursleys’ story about the two of us getting our scars in the car crash that had taken our parents from us. 

But then, exactly one year ago, Hogwarts had written to Harry and I and the whole story had been revealed. We’d happily taken our places at wizarding school, where both us and our scars were famous….but now, with the school year over, we were back at the Dursleys for one whole miserable summer, where we were both treated like dogs that had rolled in something foul. 

The Dursleys even had the nerve to forget that today was Harry’s twelfth birthday; although in the past they had proved themselves inadequate at considering either of our feelings in the matter by not even taking the effort to get either of us a single present, let alone a cake, to forget it completely was just unforgivable. 

Uncle Vernon clearing his throat broke me from my thoughts, drawing my attention away from my brooding and I turned skeptical eyes on him as he began to speak, “Now, I’m sure we’re all aware of just how important today is.”

Harry glanced up with a faint glimmer of hope in his eyes, although I myself couldn’t bring myself to even begin to hope, having a feeling what Uncle Vernon was talking about had nothing to do with what we were thinking. 

“Seeing as today could very well be the day I make the biggest deal of my career,” Uncle Vernon continued, causing Harry to drop his gaze quickly back to his toast, glaring at it now as though it had offended him instead of the idiot across the table from the two of us. I touched his hand, looking gently at him out of the corner of my eye, knowing he was disappointed that something like this could be more important than his birthday. Uncle Vernon had been talking about this deal for a couple of weeks now, telling us about how some rich builder and his wife were coming to dinner to discuss some business and hopefully arrange an order from Uncle Vernon’s business, which made drills. Harry sighed quietly, taking a bite of his toast, squeezing my hand weakly in return and smiling out of the corner of his mouth at me. 

“Now, I think we should all run through the schedule one last time,” Uncle Vernon said promptly. “We should be in our positions at eight o’clock. Petunia, you’ll be –?”

“In the lounge,” Aunt Petunia answered, smiling, “waiting to welcome them warmly to our home.”

“Good, and Dudley?”

“I’ll be waiting to open the door for them,” Dudley said with a foul, simpering smile that scared the live out of me; I was going to be having nightmares for weeks now…. “Please, come inside, Mr. and Mrs. Mason, may I take your coats?”

“Oh, they’ll just love him” Aunt Petunia cried happily. 

“Excellent, Dudley,” Uncle Vernon said with a wide smile before he rounded on Harry and I. “And you two?”

“We’ll be in our bedroom, remaining absolutely silent and pretending we don’t exist,” I replied softly, doing my best to keep an even tone, afraid to invoke Uncle Vernon’s wrath again. 

“Preciously.” Uncle Vernon said nastily. “Now, I’ll led them into the lounge and introduce you, Petunia, while I pour them some drinks. Then, at eight-fifteen –“

“I’ll announce dinner,” Aunt Petunia said. 

“And then, Dudley, you’ll –“

“Offer my arm to Mrs. Mason and ask if I could escort her to the dining room.” Dudley said, holding his arm out as though he was offering it to an invisible woman beside him. I had to fight not to roll my eyes. 

“My perfect little gentleman!” Aunt Petunia sniffled, dabbing at her eyes. 

“And you two?” Uncle Vernon asked, eying Harry and I viciously. 

“We’ll be in our room, not making a sound and pretending we don’t exist,” Harry replied dully.

“Exactly. Now, we should probably be sure to get in a few good compliments during dinner. Petunia, do you have any ideas?”

“Vernon’s told me you’re an absolutely wonderful golfer, Mr. Mason….oh, Mrs. Mason, your dress is simply wonderful, please, tell me where you got it…”

“Perfect, Dudley?”

“Hm, what about – ‘In school, we had to write an essay about our heroes, Mr. Mason, and I wrote about you.”

This proved too much for either Aunt Petunia or Harry. While I was doing my best not to choke on my eggs, Aunt Petunia burst into tears and threw her arms around her son and Harry had to duck under the table to hide his laughter.

“And you two?”

Clearing my throat quickly and kicked Harry under the table, I looked up at our uncle again, “Harry and I will be in our room, not making a sound and pretending we don’t exist.”

“Too right, you will,” Uncle Vernon said with a sneer. “The Masons don’t know anything about either of you and I’d rather intend it stays that way. When dinner’s finished, why don’t you take Mrs. Mason back to the lounge for coffee, Petunia, while I’ll bring the subject around to drills. If things go well, I should have the deal signed and sealed before the ten o’clock news and by this time tomorrow we’ll be shopping for our vacation home in Majorca.”

Harry and I looked unenthusiastically at each other at this, knowing the Dursleys would like us in Majorca about as much as they liked us here on Private Drive. 

“Right then, I’m off to town to pick up my and Dudley’s dinner jackets. I want the two of you,” he snarled at Harry and I. “to stay out of your aunt’s way while she’s cleaning.”

Neither Harry nor I wished to argue and decided instead to escape into the backyard, stepping out into the brilliant, sunny day. We crossed the lawn together and slumped down onto the garden bench, leaning back to stare up at the clear blue sky overhead. After a few minutes, I sat up, pulling a little napkin out of my pocket, which I handed to hand with a soft smile. Inside was half of my breakfast, what I could sneak away from the table for him. He smiled back at him and pulled me into a hug, which I returned, rubbing his back softly as I sang softly to him under my breath.

“Happy Birthday to you…Happy Birthday, dear Harry….”

This had to be one of Harry’s worst birthdays….yes, there wasn’t much I could do for him except sneak him a little extra food from the table and maybe get a cupcake with whatever loose change I could find in the couch and chairs whenever I was helping Aunt Petunia clean, but to have to spend your own birthday locked in your bedroom pretending you didn’t exist…? Gods, I wished I was brave enough to stand up to the Dursleys and tell them off for hurting Harry’s feelings like this, tell them to put some effort into celebrating his birthday, at least get him a proper cake for goodness’ sake. But it wasn’t just that…it wasn’t just the fact that today was so horrible, it was also the fact that neither Harry nor I had heard anything from either of our best friends at Hogwarts, Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger. Out of everything at Hogwarts, out of our classes and even Quidditch, those two were the ones we missed the most. But with the lack of letters from either of them, we were beginning to suspect that perhaps they didn’t miss us as much as we did them. Just to hear from either of them would be like Christmas morning for the two of us at this point, we were so unbearably lonely and miserable here. 

There had even been certain points in time when Harry and I had considered unlocking Hedwig and Elon’s cages by magic and sending them off with letters for Ron and Hermione, but we both knew it wouldn’t be worth the risk. Underage witches and wizards like us weren’t allowed to us magic outside of school, something we had been sure to keep from the Dursleys, knowing it was only their fear of us turning them into dung beetles that kept them from locking both of us in the cupboard with all our stuff. It had been fun for the first couple of weeks of summer vacation to watch Harry mutter nonsense words under his breath which would cause Dudley to run out of the room as fast as his legs could carry him, but as the weeks wore on and still nothing from either of our friends came, even the fun of taunting Dudley lost it’s appeal as the feeling of being completely cut off from the wizarding world took effect. And now, even Ron and Hermione had forgotten Harry’s birthday!

Oh gods, what we wouldn’t give for just one message from Hogwarts now, from any witch or wizard that would tell us that our year hadn’t all just been a dream, just a figment of our imagination. Even the sight of our enemy, Draco Malfoy, would be welcome at this point. 

Now, that’s not to say our whole first year had been fun. At the end of our term, Harry and I had come face-to-face with the wizard that had started all this, the Dark Lord Voldemort himself, although he had been a ruin of his former self. Yet, that did not stop him from still being terrifyingly cunning and determined to return to his former glory. Harry and I had managed to slip through his fingers for a second time, although it had been a rather narrow escape, which had left the two of us with lingering nightmares that still awoke us in the middle of the night, leaving us drenched in a cold sweat, wondering where Voldemort could be now, the image of his livid face and wide, made eyes –

Harry sitting bolt upright on the bench so suddenly jolted me back to reality and I jumped upright, too, my heart pounding for a moment, wondering what could have possibly made him move so quickly. He was staring at the hedge now with wide eyes and I followed his gaze quietly, wondering what he could be staring at when I suddenly saw – a pair of enormous green eyes peering out at the two of us from between the leaves!

Harry jumped immediately to his feet, still facing the hedge as a loud, jeering voice floated toward us across the lawn.

“I know what day it is,” Dudley sang as he waddled toward the two of us.

I got to my feet just as the huge eyes blinked and vanished from sight. 

“Huh?” Harry muttered without taking his eyes off the spot where the eyes had vanished while I blinked and turned to look at our cousin with a frown. 

“I know what day it is,” Dudley repeated, jeering one more as he smirked in Harry’s direction. 

“Brilliant,” Harry replied flatly. “Finally learned the days of the week, have you?”

“Today’s your birthday, Potter,” Dudley sneered. “How come you haven’t received any cards or real presents?” He snickered at the pitiful napkin left on the bench still with the food I’d taken from the table I’d given to Harry. My face warmed and I looked away sadly. “What’s the matter, don’t either of you have any friends from that freak school?”

“I wouldn’t let your mum hear you talk about our school,” Harry replied coolly. 

Dudley sniffed indignantly and hitched his trousers higher on his fat bottom.

“Why’s he staring at that hedge?” he asked, frowning at me as I looked up, his brows scrunched in suspicion. 

“I’m just trying to decide which spell I should use to set it on fire,” Harry told him.

“Harry….” I muttered warningly, putting a hand on his shoulder to tell him not to raise to Dudley’s bait. 

Panic flashed across Dudley’s face as he stumbled a few feet back, shaking his head. 

“Y-you ca-can’t – D-Dad sa-said i-i-if either o-of you d-do magic h-he’ll – he’ll ch-chuck you b-both out o-of the h-house – an-and neither o-of you have anywhere else to go – you don’t have any other friends that could –“

“Jiggery pokery!” Harry said furiously, finally snapping as he whirled to glare at Dudley. “Hocus pocus – squiggly wiggly –“

“MUUUUUUM!” Dudley howled, tripping over his own feet as he made a mad dash back toward the house. “MUUUUM! Harry’s doing you know what!”

Harry had to pay dearly for his moment of fun. Seeing as neither Dudley nor the hedge suffered any kind of damage, Aunt Petunia obviously knew he hadn’t really been doing magic, although that didn’t stop her from aiming a heavy blow at his head with her soapy frying pan. After that, she gave him chores to do, promising that he wouldn’t eat again until he was finished and forbidding me to help him with any of them. 

While I had to sit with Dudley in the living room while he ate ice cream and watched television, Harry was forced to wash the windows, the car, mow the lawn, trim the flowerbeds, prune and water the roses, and repaint the garden bench. I would get up occasionally to look out the window, watching disheartenedly as my best friend toiled in the hot sun, which was quickly leaving a sunburn on the back of his neck. I should have tried harder to stop him from raising to Dudley’s bait like that, than maybe he wouldn’t have to do all this….his birthday had been miserable enough without all this added torture. But then…Dudley had brought up something the two of us had been milling over ourselves…maybe we really didn’t have any friends at Hogwarts after all….

Hugging myself tightly and taking a shaky breath, I left the living room and went upstairs to get away for a while, throwing myself down on my bed and hugging my pillow. If only everyone could see the infamous P-Team now….see just how fabulous our lives were here at Private Drives, reduced to punching bags to our bully of a cousin and his horrible parents, unable to protect one another or make each other feel better. What I wished I could do to take Harry’s place and make this situation so much better for him, make this birthday better for him, but I couldn’t….I couldn’t do anything to help him and just that thought made me cry harder. 

I didn’t move to leave the room again until I heard Aunt Petunia call me downstairs for a quick dinner before the Masons were due to arrive. I sat up, sniffling, and pulled my glasses back on, glancing at the alarm clock on Harry’s bedside table. Seven-thirty….had I drifted off for a while? 

“Hurry up!” Aunt Petunia snapped from downstairs; I sighed, quickly wiping at my face before I left my and Harry’s room, heading back downstairs to join her and Harry in the kitchen, which was practically gleaming now. Tonight’s dessert was a huge mount of whipped cream and sugared violets that was supposed to be a kind of pudding, safely tucked away atop the fridge while a loin of roast pork sizzled in the oven.

“Both of you, eat quickly, the Mason’s will be here soon!” Aunt Petunia, already dressed up in a salmon-pink cocktail dress, said, pushing me into a chair at the table, where a plate with two slices of bread and a clump of cheese had been placed. Harry was already sitting across from me, wolfing down his food. I waited until Aunt Petunia turned her back before I tucked the food away quickly in my napkin, watching as she turned back to whisk both the plates away. “Upstairs, now!”

Harry and I left the kitchen and headed down the hall, passing the living room door, where we caught a glimpse of Uncle Vernon and Dudley in their bow ties and dinner jackets. We were just reaching the upstairs landing when the doorbell rang and Uncle Vernon stuck his furious face around the corner at the foot of the stairs. 

“Remember, you two – one sound –“

Harry and I nodded together and tiptoed across the hall to our room, where we slipped inside and he closed the door. I turned, stifling a scream at what I saw waiting for us on his bed.


	2. Dobby's Warning

I just barely managed to slap a hand to my mouth before I could part my lips to scream, stumbling backward in surprise into Harry as he stood, frozen, at the door. The creature staring at us from his bed had large, bat-like ears and hug, bulging green eyes that looked to be about the size of tennis balls. This must’ve been what we had spotted in the garden hedge this morning!

Harry and I continued to stare at the creature silently as it stared back at us, none of us thinking to make a sound as I shifted through the different bits of information in my own mind to try to figure out what this creature was, until we heard the sound of Dudley greeting the Masons drift up from the front hall.

As though that were some kind of cue, the creature (a House-Elf, I think, a creature that served wealthy wizarding families who lived in large manors), slid off Harry’s bed and bowed lowly before us until I was sure the end of it’s long, thin nose was touching the carpet. Like any house-elf, this one was wearing clothes made out of dingy old material it’s master’s had obviously given it, possibly an old, used pillow-case ripped on the sides and bottom to allow for it’s arms and legs to poke through. 

“U-um, hello,” Harry said nervously.

“Harry Potter!” The house-elf squeaked in a high-pitched voice I was afraid was loud enough to carry downstairs. “Cheyenne Power! Dobby has been waiting a long time to meet the two of you, sir and miss…It is an honor…”

“Th-thank you, D-Dobby,” I said with a gentle smile as I ushered Harry to sit on my bed now while I moved to knell down on the carpet so I could be eye to eye with the house-elf, my head cocked slightly to the side. I opened my mouth to speak again, but Harry beat me to it by blurting out, “Who are you?”

“I am Dobby, sir, just Dobby. Dobby the house-elf,” Dobby said, standing straight to smile at the two of us. 

“O-oh, really?” Harry said, glancing at me for confirmation. I nodded, smiling lightly as I looked at Dobby again, giving an apologetic smile. 

“It’s wonderful to meet you, Dobby, and I wish we didn’t have to be so rude, but I’m afraid at the current time, neither Harry nor I have the best opportunity to have a house-elf visiting us.”

The sound of our aunt’s high, false laughter resounded from the living room as though to confirm this, which caused the elf before us to bow his head. 

“I-it’s not that we’re not pleased to meet you,” Harry said quickly, waving his hands, “It’s just…well, erm…is – is there any reason why you’re visiting Chey and I right now?”

“Oh yes, indeed, sir, there is,” Dobby said in an earnest voice, looking up slowly, “Dobby’s come to tell the two of you, sir….well, it is….rather difficult…Dobby wonders where he could begin….”

“Here Dobby, why don’t you take a seat and tell us all about it,” I told him softly, getting to my feet to usher him back onto Harry’s bed. 

To our horror, however, this statement caused the elf to burst into loud, noisy tears. 

“Ta-ta-take a seat!” he wailed, covering his face. “Never…ever, ever….”

My heart nearly stopped when I heard the voices downstairs falter and Harry hurried to silently look out the door while I tried to calm Dobby down; although I’d read that house-elves were helpers to the wealthier wizarding families in our world, I hadn’t know such a simple statement could cause Dobby to break down like this. I quickly tried to apologize if I had offended him, but he shook his head, his ears flopping with the movement. 

“N-no, miss, y-you haven’t off-offended Dobby,” the elf sniffed as I helped him sit back down on Harry’s bed, reaching into my pocket to pull out a handkerchief to wipe the tears away. “D-Dobby has ju-just n-never been asked to t-take a seat by a wi-witch o-or wizard li-like an equal before.” 

Now I understood….house-elves were helpers and servants to wizards….there must be some who treated theirs’ like little more than slaves. Smiling comfortingly and gently wiping the last of Dobby’s ears away, I stepped back to sit with Harry again as the elf hiccoughed, looking like a large, ugly doll sitting atop Harry’s bed like he was. He watched the two of us now with his big great eyes filled with an expression of watery adoration.

“I guess you could’ve met many decent witches or wizards, then,” Harry said in a jokingly nervous voice, trying his best to cheer the elf up. 

Dobby shook his head with a small smile, which quickly vanished as a look of horror crossed his face. Without warning, he was suddenly on the desk, banging his head furiously against the window, shouting, “Bad Dobby! Bad Dobby!”

“What’re you doing?!” Harry hissed as he sprang forward to seize Dobby and pull him back onto his bed – the loud noise had awoken Hedwig and Elon from their sleep, both of them screeching loudly and beating their wings against the bars of their individual cages from the other end of the desk where Dobby had been not seconds before. 

“I apologize….” Dobby said, looking up at Harry and I slightly cross-eyed. “But Dobby had to punish himself, sir…he almost spoke ill of his family…”

“Your family?” Harry asked softly. 

“Dobby’s a house-elf, Harry,” I said softly as he sat down next to me again. “He’s supposed to serve the wizarding family he was born into, just as his ancestors before him.”

“Miss Cheyenne is right, Dobby is bound to serve one house and one family forever….”

“They don’t know you’re here, do they?” I asked him softly, receiving a great shudder in return. 

“Oh no, miss, no…Dobby came here without telling them…he will have to be sure to punish himself most grievously when he gets home. Dobby will have to shut his ears in the oven door for coming here. If they knew…”

“But if you shut your ears in the oven door, wont’ they notice?” Harry asked with a concerned frown. 

“Dobby doubts they will, sir, Dobby is always doing something wrong to warrant punishment, my masters just let Dobby get on with it, sir. Sometimes they even remind Dobby to do extra punishments…”

“If it’s so horrible, why don’t you just leave, escape?”

“A house-elf can’t just quit a job and leave that easily…” I sighed, chewing my bottom lip. “House-elves are bound to their families until they die unless they willingly set the free.”

“And Dobby’s family will never set him free….” Dobby said sadly while Harry could only stare before switching his gaze back to me.

“And I thought we had it bad having to stay on Privet Drive for another four weeks,” he said while I gave a weak smile. “Dobby’s family make the Dursleys almost sound human. Is there anyway we could help you?” he asked Dobby softly. Unfortunately, however, this just caused the elf to dissolve into another fit of grateful wails. 

“Please,” Harry whispered frantically as I hurried to Dobby’s sit to pull him into a hug and wipe his ears away, “please, Dobby, you have to be quiet. If the Durlseys knew you were here –“

“Harry Potter and Cheyenne Power ask if they could help Dobby!” The elf cried into my side. “Dobby has been told of both your greatness, sir and miss, but not of either of your goodness. Dobby never knew….”

My face warmed considerably as Harry’s flushed red and he waved his hands quickly, “Whatever you’ve heard about our greatness is just a load of rubbish, Dobby. I’m not even the top of our year at Hogwarts, that’s Chey –“

“Hermione’s got better grades than I do, she’s –“ I cut off quickly, my heart squeezing painfully at the thought of Hermione. 

“Both Harry Potter and Cheyenne Power are humble and modest,” Dobby said favorably as he sat back, rubbing at his glowing eyes. “Neither speak of their triumph over He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named –“

“You mean Voldemort?” Harry and I asked automatically. 

Dobby immediately clapped his hands over his large ears and moaned, “Please do not speak of his name, sir and miss!”

“Sorry,” Harry said quickly. “Chey and I both know not a lot of people like it. Our friend Ron –“

Another painful twinge flashed through my heart at the thought of our other best friend.

Dobby looked between the two of us with wide-eyes that reminded me very much of a pair of headlights. 

“Dobby has heard,” he said in a hoarse voice. “that Harry Potter and Cheyenne Power both met the Dark Lord for a second time just weeks ago…that they both escaped for a second time.”

Harry and I nodded silently together, causing Dobby’s eyes to shine anew with tears. 

“Ah, sir, miss,” he sniffed, dabbing at his eyes with a corner of his grubby pillowcase. “Harry Potter and Cheyenne Power are both valiant and bold! They both have braved so many dangers in their lives already! But Dobby has come here to protect Harry Potter and Cheyenne Power, to warn them, even if he will have to shut his ears in the oven door when he returns home….neither Harry Potter nor Cheyenne Power must go back to Hogwarts!”

Silence enveloped the room, only broken by the chinking of knives and forks drifting up from downstairs while Uncle Vernon rumbled on and on. 

“Wh-what?” Harry and I stammered together, unable to fully absorb this. “But…but we have to go back – the new term starts on September first, it’s the only thing that’s keeping us going. Dobby, you don’t understand what it’s like for us here. Neither of us belong here, we belong in the wizarding world – at Hogwarts.”

“No, no,” Dobby squeaked, shaking his head again so his ears flapped once more. “Both Harry Potter and Cheyenne Power must stay where they are safe, they are too great, too precious, to lose. If Harry Potter and Cheyenne Power return to Hogwarts, they will be in mortal danger.”

“Why?” Harry asked with a frown as he glanced at me.

“There is a terrible plot, Harry Potter, a plot that will make most terrible things happen at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry this year.” Dobby whispered dramatically, trembling heavily at the thought. “Dobby has known of it for months, sir and miss. Neither Harry Potter nor Cheyenne Power must put themselves in peril. They are too important to the wizarding world!”

“But what terrible things could they be?” I asked softly with a frown. “Who could be plotting anything of the sort?” 

Dobby only gaze us a funny choking noise in reply before he began banging his head frantically against the wall. 

“All right!” Harry cried as I pulled Dobby away from the wall. “You can’t tell either of us who it is, we understand. But why have you decided to warn us?” A sudden, horrible thought struck the two of us at the same time and my eyes snapped up to meet Harry’s. “Hang on – this couldn’t have anything to do with Vol – I-I mean – You-Know-Who, could it? Just nod or shake your head,” He added hastily as I had to retrain Dobby from inching toward the wall again. 

Dobby slowly shook his head. 

“No, sir – not He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named –“

Dobby’s eyes widened then, giving me the distinct impression that he was trying to give Harry and I a hint about something, although neither of us could seem to figure out what it was. 

“Does he have a brother?”

Dobby shook his head as his eyes widened even further. 

“Well….if it’s not that, then…um…” I trailed off, chewing my bottom lip once more before shaking my head, “I’m sorry, Dobby, but if it’s now You-Know-Who, then I can’t think of who else could be making terrible things happen at Hogwarts. And besides, with Professor Dumbledore there – you do know who Dumbledore is, don’t you?”

Dobby bowed his head respectfully. 

“Albus Dumbledore is the greatest headmaster that Hogwarts will ever know. Dobby knows it, miss, Dobby has heard of all of Dumbledore’s triumphs; his powers rival that of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, even when he was at the height of his strength. But this, sir and miss –“ Dobby’s voice dropped back into an urgent whisper. “even Dumbledore does not possess powers like these….”

Before either Harry or I could move to stop him, Dobby had ripped his arm from my grasp and bounded up onto the desk once more, where he seized the desk lamp and began beating himself over the head with it with earsplitting yelps. 

An immediate hush fell downstairs and not seconds later my and Harry’s hearts dropped as we heard Uncle Vernon come into the hall, calling back, “Dudley must have left his television on again, the little tyke!”

“Quickly, get in the closet!” Harry hissed as he seized the back of Dobby’s clothes and stuffed him inside. I flung myself onto his bed as he shut the door, shifting sideways as he hurried onto the blankets next to me. I grabbed the first book my hand landed on and propped it open between us just as the door knob turned. 

“What – the – devil – are – you – two – doing?!” Uncle Vernon growled through gritted teeth as soon as the door had opened, picking Harry’s up by the front of the shirt until his face was practically pressed against his, “You’ve both just ruined the punch line to my Japanese golfer joke….if I hear one more sound from either of you, you’ll both wish you’d never been born!”

And with that he dropped Harry and stomped, flat-footed, from the room.

Sitting up shakily, I watched Harry let Dobby out of the closet. 

“Do you see what it’s like here for us?” He said. “See why Chey and I’ve got to go back to Hogwarts? It’s the only place we feel we belong, where we…we think we’ve got friends….”

“Friends who don’t write to either Harry Potter or Cheyenne Power?” Dobby replied slyly, immediately catching my attention as I frowned at the elf, narrowing my eyes. 

“Hold on a minute,” I said, getting to my feet and crossing my arms. “Dobby, how could you know our friends haven’t been writing to us, we never told you anything about that.”

Dobby looked away guiltily and shuffled his feet. 

“Neither Harry Potter nor Cheyenne Power must be angry with Dobby, he just did it for the best –“

I got down on my knees on the floor again, “Dobby, have you been stopping our letters?”

“Dobby has them here with him, miss,” the elf said as he stepped nimbly out of both our reaches, pulling out a thick wad of envelopes from the inside of his pillowcase. On a few I could just make out Hermione’s neat handwriting, Ron’s untidy scrawl, and even a scribble that looked like a letter from the Hogwarts gamekeeper himself, Hagrid. 

Dobby blinked anxiously up at Harry and I.

“Neither of you must be angry….Dobby had hoped that if Harry Potter and Cheyenne Power thought their friends had forgotten them that they might not want to go back to school, sir and miss….”

Harry, apparently, wasn’t listening, though and made a grab for the letters, only for Dobby to jump out of his reach and onto my bed. 

“Harry Potter and Cheyenne Power may have their letters, sir, if they give Dobby their word that they will not return to Hogwarts this year. Ah, sir, miss, neither of you must face this danger! Say neither of you will go back sir and miss!”

“No,” Harry growled angrily, glaring at him. “Now give us our letters, Dobby!”

“Then I’m afraid Harry Potter and Cheyenne Power leave Dobby no other choice,” the elf said sadly, moving before either Harry or I could react; in one movement, he was off my bed and at the bedroom door, which he pulled open before disappearing down the stairs. 

My throat seized immediately and I bolted after him without thinking or even stopping to see if Harry had followed me, moving as close to a cat as I was physically able to. I launched myself over the banister and landed silently on the hall carpet, glancing toward the door leading in to the kitchen, where I was sure I spotted Dobby just disappearing past the doorframe. Uncle Vernon’s voice was coming form the dining room as I hurried down the hall and skid into the kitchen, where I crouched down next to the counter, my stomach dropping as soon as I looked up. 

Floating up by the ceiling smack dab in the middle of the room was Aunt Petunia’s pudding masterpiece, while Dobby was crouched on the top of a cupboard in the corner. 

“No,” Harry croaked out as he slid to a stop next to me, looking up at Dobby with the same pale, wide-eyed expression I felt on my face. “Please Dobby, don’t, they’ll kill us….”

“Harry Potter and Cheyenne Power must promise they won’t go back to school –“

“Do-Dobby, pl-pl-please,” I stammered, tears blurring my vision.

“Say it, miss –“

“We can’t –“ 

Dobby gave the two of us a tragic look. 

“Then Dobby must do do it, sir, for both Harry Potter and Cheyenne Power’s own good.”

With a fingers, he caused the pudding to fall to the floor with a heart-stopping crash. Harry dove in front of me to take the brunt of the cream that flew in all directions, splattering the windows and walls when the dish shattered. What sounded like a whip cracking rent the room then and Dobby was gone. 

Screams echoed from the dining room seconds before Uncle Vernon burst through the door to find Harry and I, rigid against the cupboards on the floor, covered entirely in Aunt Petunia’s pudding. 

At first, it looked as though Uncle Vernon would be able to gloss the whole thing over by telling the Masons that we were their disturbed niece and nephew with a disorder that prevented us from meeting strangers before shooing the shocked couple back into the dining room. With a hissed promise to flay both Harry and I within an inch of our lives when the Masons left, he shoved the mop and a couple of dish towels in our hands before returning to his guest while Aunt Petunia dug some ice cream from the freezer, leaving Harry and I, still quiet shaken and terrified, to scrub the kitchen clean. 

The deal could still have been made if it hadn’t’ve been for the owl. 

It came swooping in through the dining room window just as Aunt Petunia was passing around a box of after-dinner mints, a huge barn owl that ended up dropping it’s letter on Mrs. Mason’s head before it swooped back out into the night again. Mrs. Mason immediately began screaming like a banshee and ran from the house while shouting about lunatics at the top of her lungs. Her husband stayed long enough to tell the Dursleys about his wife’s mortal fear of birds of all shapes and sizes before departing with a question of if this had been their idea of a joke. 

Harry and I were frozen in the kitchen, Harry clutching tightly to his mop for support while I sat up slowly, clutching tightly to the frosted dish towels in my hands, both of us watching as Uncle Vernon advanced on the two of us, a demonic glint in his tiny. 

“Read it!” he hissed lowly as he brandished the letter at the two of us. “Go on, read it aloud!”

Harry took it shakily and began to read:

Dear Mr. Potter and Miss Power, 

We have just received intelligence that a Hover Charm was used at your place of residence at twelve past nine this evening. 

As you are both aware, underage witches and wizards are not allowed to perform spells outside their place of education, and any further spellwork performed by either of you will result in expulsion from school (Decree for the Reasonsable Restriction of Underage Sorcery, 1875, Paragraph C).

We will almost be reminding the two of you that the performance of any magical activity in the presence of those of the non-magical community (Muggles) that could risk exposure of the magical world if a serious offense under section 13 of the International Confederation of Warlocks’ Statute of Secrecy. 

Enjoy your holidays!

Sincerely,

Mafalda Hopkirk

Mafalda Hopkirk

Improper Use of Magic Office

Ministry of Magic

Harry and I looked up together and gulped thickly. 

“Neither of you told us you weren’t allowed to use magic outside of school,” Uncle Vernon said with a mad gleam in his eyes. “Slipped both your minds, did it, hm?”

He bore down on the two of us like a great bulldog, his teeth bared as we scrambled back, Harry pushing me behind him almost instinctively. “Well I’ve got news for the two of you….I’m locking you both up….Neither of you are ever going back to that school…never…and if either of you try to magic your way out, you’ll be expelled!”

Laughing maniacally, Uncle Vernon seized Harry and I by the neck of our shirts and dragged us back upstairs. 

He was as bad as his word, for the following morning, Uncle Vernon paid to have thick iron bars fit on my and Harry’s window while he himself fit a cat-flap into our bedroom door that would allow small amounts of food to be passed to us three times a day. The only times either of us were allowed out of our room was twice a day, once in the morning and once in the evening, so we could use the bathroom. But other than that, our room had become our full time prison cell. 

 

Three days passed in this fashion and still the Dursleys would not relent, leaving Harry and I stuck with no foreseeable way out of our situation. At the end of the third day, we lay together on Harry’s bed watching as the sun sank beyond the bars on the window, wondering miserably together what could possibly happen to the two of us now. 

There was no use in either of us using magic to get out of this, knowing that if we did that we would be expelled from Hogwarts forever and forced back onto Privet Drive, where our lives had reached an all-time low. Now that the Dursleys knew neither of us could perform magic outside of school, we had lost our long weapon at keeping them at bay. Although Dobby had only had the best intentions at heart in trying to keep the two of us from whatever terrible things were happening at Hogwarts, Harry and I knew that at the rate we were going, we were likely to die from starvation before anything else. 

The cat flap rattled from behind us then and we turned in time to see Aunt Petunia’s hand appear as it pushed a couple of bowls of canned soup into the room. Our stomachs complaining loudly, begging for food, Harry and I leapt up from the bed and seized the bowls, drinking half the soup within them in one gulp, not even carrying that it was stone-cold, just that we had something to eat. The soggy vegetables left in the bottom of our bowls we saved for Hedwig and Elon, tipping them into both their empty food trays. While Hedwig gave us a reproachful look, Elon dutifully leaned over to nibble at the food, ruffling his feathers and clicking his beak sadly. 

“I know, Elon…” I sighed softly, gently rubbing his head through the bars. “I’m sorry I can’t give you anything else, but this is all we’ve got….”

Smiling weakly at the affectionate nip he gave in return, I handed my empty bowl to Harry, watching as he set both back by the cat-flap before I flopped back down on the bed, somehow feeling hungrier than I had been before the soup. 

If we survived these new four weeks, what would happen if neither Harry nor I showed up at Hogwarts? Would someone be sent to find out why we hadn’t come back? And if they were, would they be able to convince the Dursleys to let us go?”

Darkness was slowly encasing the room as the sun sank lower and lower on the horizon. Exhausted and hungry, I closed my eyes as I mused over the same unanswerable questions, trying to find some kind of answer, some solution until sleep overcame me. 

I had the strangest dream that night; Harry and I were on display at a zoo, sharing a cage with a card reading Underage Witch and Wizard attached to the front. People were goggling at us through the bars as we lay on a bed of straw, our stomach growling loudly as we curled in on each other, my face pressed into Harry’s chest while he had his arms wrapped around me, trying to shield me from their eyes. Dobby’s face appeared among the crowd then and we called out to him, begging for helping, but Dobby only said, “Harry Potter and Cheyenne Power are safe here, sir, miss!’ before he vanished. The Dursleys appeared not seconds later, Dudley rattling the bars of our cage while he laughed at us. 

“No, stop,” I muttered, curling in on myself, fighting the tears threatening to escape my eyes as I clutched at my pounding temples. “Leave us alone….please, please…we’re trying to sleep.”

I jolted awake at a sudden rattling noise, blinking quickly and looking around at my surroundings. Moonlight shone through the bars of our window, creating a puddle of blue white light on our floor. I sat up, rubbing at my eyes as I noticed another pair peering into our room, a pair of eyes attached to a freckly, red-haired, long-nosed head. 

Ron Weasley was floating outside our window!


	3. Escape to the Burrow

“Ron!” Harry and I breathed together into the quiet, dark room as we slid from our beds to creep over to the window, which we pushed open together so we could talk with him through the bars, wondering how on earth he could have gotten here until we noticed what exactly he was sitting in. 

Ron was leaning out the back window of an old, turquoise colored car, parked before our window in midair! From the front seat, grinning at us from behind Ron were his elder twin brothers, Fred and George. 

“All right there, Harry, Cheyenne?” George asked.

“What’ve the two’ve you been up to?” Ron asked with a frown. “I haven’t gotten a single letter back from either of you this summer and I’ve already asked you both twelve times when you’re going to stay. And then tonight Dad came home to tell us the two of you got an official warning for using magic in the presence of Muggles –“

“No, it wasn’t us, it – wait, how could – does your dad work for the Ministry?” I asked, cocking my head curiously. 

“Yeah, but anyway, the two’ve you know we’re not supposed to use magic outside school, I would’ve thought you’d be a stickler for the rules like Hermione, Chey –“

“Like you have room to talk,” Harry said, looking pointedly at the floating car he was currently seated in. 

“Oh no, this doesn’t count,” Ron said, waving his hand dismissively. “None of us enchanted the car ourselves, we’re just borrowing it. It’s our Dad’s. But I would’ve thought the two’ve you ha more sense not to do magic in front of those Muggles you both live with –“

“We’ve told you, it wasn’t us, but if we tried to properly explain, it would take too long – listen, go to Hogwarts and tell them that the Dursleys have locked us up so we can’t get back. Obviously we won’t be able to magic ourselves out or the Ministry’ll think we’ve done magic again so –“

“Calm down a second, Harry,” Ron said, holding his hands up. “We’re not going anywhere without either of you, we’ve come to spring you.”

“But how could any of you get us out of here without magic -?”

“We don’t need magic,” Ron said with a grin as he jerked his head toward the two sitting in the front seat, “We have the two best escape artists still attending Hogwarts here to help.”

“Here, catch this and tie it around the bars,” Fred said, leaning out his window to toss a rope to us, one end already attached to the bumper of the car. 

“If this wakes up the Dursleys, Harry and I are both dead,” I said as we tied our end of the rope to one of the bars while Fred revved up the car. 

“Don’t worry, Chey,” Fred said with a grin back at me, causing my heart to skip while my face immediately warmed. “Just stand back and watch.”

Harry gently took my hand and pulled me back from the window, both of us retreating into the shadows next to Hedwig and Elon, both of whom were awake, although neither of them made a sound, apparently aware of the severity of the situation. The car pulled away from the house until the rope was taut, the engine revving louder and louder with each passing moment until a crunch split the air; the bars fell away from the window while the car had disappeared upward toward the sky. Harry and I rushed back toward the window, staring down at the bars as they hung a few feet from the ground before Ron began to hoist them up into the cart, panting. I bit my bottom lip, listening hard for the sound of our aunt or uncle getting out of bed to investigate the noise, but only silence followed. I exhaled slowly.

Once the bars had safely been hoisted into the backseat with Ron, Fred backed the car up until it as a close to my and Harry’s window as possible. 

“C’mon,” Ron said, opening the back door. 

“B-but all our stuff, our Hogwarts equipment, it’s –“

“Where?” 

“The Dursleys locked it all up in the cupboard under the stairs and neither of us can get out of this room –“

“Don’t worry,” George said reassuringly as Fred parked the car and opened his door. “Move out of the way, we’re coming in.”

With catlike grace, the twins climbed through our window and across the room to our door. I could only stare at them in amazement, feeling a great deal of respect for the two of them as George pulled an ordinary hairpin from his pocket and began to pick the lock with it. 

“You don’t see a lot of wizards knowing this kind of Muggle trick, they think it’s a waste of time,” Fred said, shrugging his shoulder as he grinned back at us, “but, even if it’s a bit slow, George and I feel they’re skills worth learning if we ever get in a tight spot and can’t use magic.”

A soft click resounded through the room and the door swung open. 

“So, we’ll get both your trunks and the two’ve you grab whatever you need in here and hand it out to Ron,” George whispered as Fred disappeared onto the shadowed landing. 

“Be careful going down the stairs, the bottom one creaks,” Harry whispered as I began gathering whatever I thought was important and passed it out the window to Ron. It didn’t take long for either Harry or I to collect everything we needed from the room, so once we were done, we hurried to help Fred and George with our trunks. The bed in Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia’s room creaked as one of them rolled over, Dudley’s snoring the only thing that overrode it. 

Finally, panting and sweating, we got both trunks onto the landing and hurried them across the hall to our room and the open window. Fred and Harry climbed into the car to help Ron pull our trunks through while George and I pushed from the other side. It was a slow process, but we got them into the car.

“Just a little bit more,” Fred panted as we were just pulling my trunk into the back of the car alongside Harry’s, which was safely tucked inside already. “We just need one last good push –“

Throwing our shoulders against the trunk, George and I managed to get it through the window and into the car with relieved sighs. 

“All right, we’re all set, let’s go,” George whispered as he climbed onto the chest of drawers and into the car. I moved to follow, only to freeze when a couple of loud screeches sounded from behind me, which were immediately followed by Uncle Vernon’s thundering voice. 

“THOSE RUDDY OWLS!”

My eyes snapped up to Harry’s, “Hedwig and Elon!” 

I leapt from the sill and torn back across the room as the light on the landing clicked on, snatching up both owls’ cages before making a mad dash back for the window. “Here, take them!” I said quickly, handing Hedwig to Harry and Elon to Ron before scrambling to climb back onto the chest of drawers. Uncle Vernon’s fist slammed on the unlocked door with unrestrained force and it flew open, hitting the wall behind it with a loud crash. 

Time force for that half second as our uncle stood framed in our bedroom doorway, watching us with big, plate like eyes; but then, realization blazed in his eyes and he dove at me with an angry, bull like bellow, seizing my ankle and yanking me halfway off the furniture. 

I screamed, kicking out at him with my other foot while Harry wrapped his arms around my waist and the Weasleys grabbed my arms and wrists, making me feel like I was a part of a demented game of tug-of-war. 

“Petunia!” Uncle Vernon roared as he grabbed my other ankle and pulled again, trying to tug me back inside as I flailed my legs in his grasp. “They’re getting away! THEY’RE GETTING AWAY!”

However, with one last gigantic tug, Harry and the Weasleys yanked me from our uncle’s grasp, all of us falling back into the car in a big pile, one of top of the other. I jolted up and slammed the car door shut. 

“Drive Fred, drive!” Ron yelled. Fred scrambled around to pull himself onto the drivers’ seat again and the car shot forward toward the moon. 

I settled back in the seat to let what had just happened sink in, my heart lifting as a smile split my lips. I turned to my best friend, who was smiling brilliantly back at me before a burst of laughter escaped him and he pulled me into a hug; we were free! Pulling back from the hug, we rolled down the window, enjoying the cool night window that played with our hair as we stuck out heads into the breeze, smiling back at the shrinking rooftops of Privet Drive. Hanging out our window with identically dumbstruck looks on their faces, Uncle Vernon, Aunt Petunia, and Dudley could only stare after us as the distance between us and them grew. 

“We’ll see you next summer!” Harry and I called back to them, snickering. 

The Weasleys roared with laughter while the two of us leaned back in our seats once more, our faces split into identical Cheshire cat smiles. 

“Here, let Hedwig and Elon out,” Harry said to Ron, nudging both their cages. “They’ve both been dying for a flight, they can follow us.” 

George reached back to hand the hairpin to Ron and within moments both the snowy and raven-black owls had escaped out the window to soar joyfully alongside us, turning brilliant shades of blue in the moonlight. 

“So, what’s the story been, Harry, Chey?” Ron asked once he’d settled back into his seat, frowning at the two of us impatiently. “Why haven’t either of you been answering any of my letters?”

Harry and I took turns telling them about Dobby and the warning he had given us before he caused the fiasco with the violet pudding. When we were finished, a long, shocked silence followed as the three brothers exchanged looks with one another. 

“That all founds fishy,” Fred said, finally breaking the silence. 

“Definitely,” George agreed, nodding his head. “So, he tried to warn the two of you, but he couldn’t tell either of you who could be behind this plot?”

“No,” I sighed, shaking my head with a frown. “And every time we would try to get him to tell us or he would get close to letting something slip, he would start hurting himself.”

Fred and George exchanged looks with one another. 

“What….you don’t think he was lying to us, do you?” Harry asked. 

“Well….” Fred said slowly, looking back toward the moon, “look at it this way – even though house-elves have their own brand of powerful magic, being under the control of a wizard makes it more difficult for them to use it. They would have to get their master’s permission before they’re able to. I have an inkling that ol’ Dobby was sent to stop the two of you from going back to Hogwarts, probably as someone’s idea of a joke. Is there anyone either of you could think of that wouldn’t want you back at school?” 

“Yes,” Harry, Ron, and I responded immediately together. 

“Draco Malfoy,” Harry went on to explain, “He completely loathes Chey and I.”

“Draco Malfoy….” George hummed, turning around to face us. “You mean Lucius Malfoy’s son?”

“I believe so, the Malfoy name isn’t very common in the wizarding world, so it must be,” I said, cocking my head to the side as I crossed my arms. “Why do you ask?”

“Probably because we’ve heard our Dad talking about ‘em,” George said. “Old Lucius was supposedly a big supporter of You-Know-Who.”

“But then, when You-Know-Who disappeared,” Fred continued, glancing over his shoulder to look at Harry and I. “Lucius Malfoy came back to our side, going on about how he never meant any of it. Load of rubbish – Dad thinks he was probably right in You-Know-Who’s inner circle.”

Harry and I glanced at one another, having heard these rumors about the Malfoys before, which didn’t really surprise us all that much. In all the time we’d known Malfoy, he almost made our cousin look like a kind, considerate, sensitive young man. 

“But then…” I paused for a moment, chewing my bottom lip, “Dobby wouldn’t tell us who his masters were, so we couldn’t know if he was the Malfoys or not….”

“Well whatever family does own him,” Fred turned back around to watch the sky again. “They’ll have to be an old wizarding family with a lot of gold.”

“You know, Mum’s always wishing we had a house-elf to help out around the house,” George chuckled. “Always said she’d like some help with the ironing. But, unfortunately for us, all we’ve got is some lousy old ghoul in the attic and gnomes running amok in the garden. House-elves usually come with those big old manors or castle, places like that; one wouldn’t be seen at our house…”

I hummed thoughtfully and glanced out the window at the inky black sky, watching the stars whizzing by, occasionally spotting Hedwig or Elon swoop out of sight as I contemplated all of this. Judging by the fact that Malfoy was always bragging about his high station in society and about how he always had the best of everything thanks to the gold his father earned, I wouldn’t be all that surprised if he did live in a big old manor with tons of house-elves at his beck and call. I could just picture him in my mind’s eyes, strutting about the house so arrogantly, sending off Dobby to stop Harry and I from going back to Hogwarts; it did sound like the kind of thing he would do. Maybe we shouldn’t have taken Dobby so seriously….

“Well, I’m glad we decided to come and get the two of you, anyway,” Ron’s voice drew my back to the present and I turned back around to face him, smiling gratefully. “I was really starting to get worried about the two of you when neither of you would write back. I thought maybe it was just Errol’s fault –“

“Who is Errol?” Harry asked. 

“He’s our owl, ancient old thing, he is. Wouldn’t’ve been the first time he’d’ve collapsed on a delivery. So then I decided to try and borrow Hermes –“

“Who?”

“Percy’s owl, the one he got from Mum and Dad when he made prefect,” Fred told us from the driver’s seat. 

“But Percy wouldn’t let me borrow him,” Ron said, rolling his eyes. “Said he needed Hermes for something.”

“Percy has been acting right strange this summer,” George said with a thoughtful frown. “Been shut up in his room a lot lately, sending out all these letters to Merlin knows who…what he could be doing in there, I haven’t a clue, I mean, he can’t just be polishing his prefect badge all the time….Oh, we’re going too far west, Fred,” he added to his twin brother, poking at a compass built into the dashboard. Fred steered the car around in the right direction. 

“So….does your Dad know the lot’ve you’ve borrowed the car?” Harry asked, although I already had an inkling what the answer would be. 

“Erm, no…” Ron admitted, rubbing his neck, “Dad had to work tonight, but hopefully we can get the car safely back in the garage without Mum noticing anything’s amiss.”

“So, Ron, what kind of work does your Dad do at the Ministry of Magic?” I asked with an intrigued smile, cocking my head. 

“He doesn’t do anything all that exciting, he works in one of the more boring departments,” Ron admitted, glancing away sheepishly. “He’s a part of the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office.”

“The what?” Harry asked before I could open my mouth again to speak. I looked gently at him, shaking my head. 

“It just sounds like a job that requires the attention of officials to deal with the bewitching of Muggle things.” I pointed out, earning a nod from Ron. 

“Yeah, Dad has to deal with a lot of things like that, especially if they end up in a Muggle shop or house again. Once last year, there was an old witch who died and her old tea set was sold to this antique shop. It was bought by a Muggle woman, who tried using it when her friends visited, but it ended up turning into a nightmare – Dad had to work overtime for weeks afterward because of it.”

“What happened to them?”

“Well, the teapot ended up going berserk and squirting tea all over the place while one man had to go to the hospital to get the pair of sugar tongs removed from his nose. Dad went frantic – it’s really only him and an old warlock named Perkins who work in that office – they had to perform Memory Charms on all of them and do a lot of other things to try to cover it all up –“

“But….what about this car -?”

Fred chuckled. “Yeah, Dad’s absolutely nuts about everything that has to do with Muggles, he got our shed overflowing with it. He takes everything apart to find out how it works, performs spells on it, and then puts it all back together. If he ever had to raid our house, he would have to put himself under arrest. It drives Mum crazy.”

“Look, there’s the main road,” George said, pointing out through the windshield at the long, winding road far below us. “We’ll be home in ten minutes…good thing, too, the sun’s starting to come up.”

The horizon was just beginning to turn a faint, pinkish gold color with the approaching sun to the east, outlining the surrounding mountains. 

Fred steered us downward, allowing Harry and I a view of the dark patchwork of fields below, only broken up by large clumps of trees scattered among the land. Just over the tops of a few trees, I thought I spotted the rooftops of a village, not yet awake to greet the new day. 

“We live just a little way outside the village,” George said as we drifted lower. “Ottery St. Catchpole.”

The sun had begun to peek over the mountains, throwing golden red rays of light across the land, causing the tree leaves to glimmer bright green in the growing light. 

“And…touchdown!” Fred said as we landed, jumping slightly in our seats from the light bump as we did. We pulled to a stop next to a tumbledown garage resting in a small yard while Harry and I peered out through the window at Ron’s house for the first time. 

It was the oddest and most fascinating house we had ever seen; looking as though it had once been a large stone pigpen, extra rooms had been added on here and there until the house was standing crookedly several stories high. It looked so crooked, I wouldn’t’ve been surprised if it was being held up simply by magic. The red roof was decorated with four or five chimneys, none of which were being used yet and near the front door stood a lopsided sign that read simply, The Burrow. The front stoop was surrounded by a jumble of rubber boots and a rusted over cauldron while several fat brown chickens pecked their way around the yard. 

“I know it’s not much,” Ron said sheepishly. 

“It’s amazing, Ron!” I breathed with a growing smile, much preferring this place over Privet Drive as we climbed out of the car. 

“All right, so, we’ll just need to get inside and go upstairs real quiet like,” Fred said. “Then we’ll wait for Mum to call us down for breakfast. Ron, you’ll come downstairs and say, “Hey Mum, look who turned up in the night!’ She should be so pleased to see Harry and Cheyenne she won’t ever have to know we flew the car.”

“Right,” Ron agreed, turning Harry and I now. “C’mon, Harry, Chey, my room’s at the – the t-top –“

Ron suddenly turned a nasty shade of green, his widening eyes fixed on the house. Fred, George, Harry, and I whirled around.

Mrs. Weasley was marching across the yard toward us, scattering chickens on her way as she glared at her sons with a fierceness that could rival a saber-toothed tigers’. 

“Ah!” Fred gulped. 

“Oh no…” George mumbled. 

Mrs. Weasley came to a stop before us, resting her hands on her hips, looking from one guilty face to another. Her robes were covered by a flowered apron with a pocket from which her wand currently protruded. 

“So,” she said expectedly. 

“G-good morning, Mum,” George said in a forced calm voice leaning more toward a jaunty, winning tone. 

“Have any of you an idea of how worried I’ve been?” Mrs. Weasley told us in a heated whisper. 

“Sorry, Mum, but we had to –“

Despite their height advantage, al three of Mrs. Weasley’s sons still cowered before her as her rage broke free and crashed over them like a wave. 

“I wake up in the middle of the night to find the three of you gone without even a note telling me where you went off too in that car! You lot could have crashed or been seen, I have been worried out of my mind, but do any of you care?! I have never, as long as I’ve lived – you all just wait until your father gets home, we have never had such trouble from Bill or Charlie or Percy –“

“Perfect Percy,” Fred muttered disdainfully. 

“YOU WOULD DO WELL WITH TAKING A LEAF FROM PERCY’S BOOK!” Mrs. Weasley yelled as she prodded Fred’s chest with the point of one of her fingers. “What if you had died out there or been seen by a Muggle? This could have lost your father his job –“

The lecture never seemed to end as Mrs. Weasley practically yelled herself hoarse before she finally turned to Harry and I. I shuffled behind my best friend as we took a few steps back. 

“I’m so pleased to see the two of you, Harry, Cheyenne, dears,” she said with a smile. “Why don’t you come inside for breakfast?”

She turned and headed back inside while Harry and I glanced at Ron, who nodded encouragingly for us to follow her. Taking each other’s hand, we followed after.

We walked into a small, cramped kitchen, where a scrubbed wooden table and chairs was centered in the middle of the room. Harry and I each took a seat, taking in everything around us since neither of us had ever been inside a wizard’s house before. 

On the opposite wall a clock had been hung up, although this clock was far different from any either of us had ever seen; this clock had only one hand, but no numbers at all. Instead, written along the edge of the face were things like Tea Time, Feed Chickens, and Late. On the mantelpiece, books were stacked three deep, books entitled Charms for Cheeses, Baking Enchantments, and One Minute Feasts. Next to the sink sat an old radio, which was just announcing tat the Witching Hour was coming up, hosted by a popular witch by the name of Celestina Warbeck.”

Mrs. Weasley clattered about the room making us breakfast, although in a bit more of a haphazard way as she kept through dirty looks over her shoulder at her sons while she tossed sausages into a frying pan. Every now and again, I could swear I heard her muttering to herself about what her sons had done. 

“Of course, I don’t blame either of you, dears,” she assured Harry and I as she was serving us breakfast, tipping eight sausages onto our plates each. “Arthur and I were beginning to get rather worried about the two of you, too and we were just talking last night about coming to get you two if Ron hadn’t heard from either of you by Friday. But really,” she sighed, shaking her head as she added three fried eggs to both our plates, “going out and flying an illegal car halfway across the country – what if someone had seen you –“

Flicking her wand casually at the dishes in the sink, she didn’t bat an eye as they began washing themselves, clinking gently in the background as they did. 

“It was cloudly outside, Mum,” Fred pointed out. 

“Don’t talk with your mouth full!” Mrs. Weasley snapped. 

“They were starving them, Mum…” George said. 

“You, too!” Mrs. Weasley told him, although her expression had softened a tad now as she began cutting up some bread and buttering it for Harry and I. 

A sudden diversion came at that moment as a small, red-headed figure in a long nightdress appeared in the kitchen, only to squeal loudly and run back out once more. 

“That was Ginny,” Ron told Harry and I in an undertone. “She’s my little sister, been talking about the two of you all summer.”

“Yeah, been wanting both your autographs, Harry, Chey,” Fred said, grinning broadly, only to catch his mother’s eye before he bent his face over his plate once more. Silence passed between the six of us as we ate our breakfast, which took less time than expected. 

“Blimey, I’m wiped out,” Fred yawned as he set his knife and fork down, stretching his arms over his head. “I think I’ll be heading up to bed –“

“Oh no you don’t,” Mrs. Weasley snapped as she collected all our plates from the table. “It’s your own fault for being up all night. You three are going to de-gnome the garden today for me,” she said, looking pointedly at George and Ron as she did. “They’re getting completely out of hand again –“

“Oh Mum –“

“You two,” Mrs. Weasley ignored her sons in favor of smiling gently at Harry and I. “You both can head up to bed if you wish, dears, neither of you asked any of them to fly all that way –“

Neither Harry nor I were feeling particularly tired, however, “No, it’s all right, Mrs. Weasley, we want to help Ron, neither of us has ever seen a de-gnoming before –“

“Oh, that’s very sweet of both of you, but really, it’s dull work.” Mrs. Weasley told us. “Now, why don’t we see what Lockhart’s got to say on this subject -?”

She went to the mantelpiece and pulled out a heavy book from the stack, eliciting a groan from George. 

“Aw, Mum, we already know how to de-gnome a garden –“

Harry and I cocked our heads to get a better look at the book in Mrs. Weasley’s hands, which was entitled Gilderoy Lockhart’s Guide to Household Pests in fancy golden lettering across the top. The rest of the cover was taken up by a big photograph of a handsome wizard with wavy blond hair and twinkling blue eyes. Just as other photos in the wizarding world, this one was moving; the wizard named Gilderoy Lockhart kept winking cheekily up at all of us while Mrs. Weasley beamed at him. 

‘Oh, he is quite marvelous,” she sighed. “He really seems to know his household pests, such a wonderful book….”

“Mum really fancies him,” Fred said in an audible whisper. 

“Nonsense, Fred,” Mrs. Weasley said, her cheeks pinking. “Well, if you think you know better than Lockhart does, then just go on out there and get on with the de-gnoming. Merlin help you if I find a single gnome out there when I go out to inspect it, too.”

Yawning and grumbling, the Weasleys led the way back outside, Harry and I right behind them. Their garden was rather large and just so…so perfect in my opinion. To the Dursleys, the overgrown grass and abundance of weeds would have seemed appalling, but I found it quiet peaceful, rustic, with it’s gnarled trees growing by the walls and the great plants I was only able to recognize from my Herbology book growing in the flower beds. Off in one corner, there was even a big green pond hopping with frogs. 

“Muggles have garden gnomes, too,” Harry pointed out to Ron as we crossed the lawn as a peony bush nearby rustled and I hurried past them to investigate, Fred calling after me to be careful. 

“Yeah, I remember seeing those things they call gnomes,” Ron said as I bent over the bush and began searching the branches. “They just look like fat little Santa Clauses with fishing rods…”

I spotted what I was looking for then and shot my arm out to catch it, my hand clamping down on a horny foot. I gave a tug, tripping it and pulled it out amid squeals and it trying to grab onto something to stop me. I finally straightened up, holding the gnome out in front of me by it’s foot. 

“That’s a gnome,” Ron pointed out. 

“Gerroff me! Gerroff!” it squealed at me. 

From what I’d read on gnomes, I’d already found out that they really didn’t resemble little Santa Clauses like Muggles thought they did. They were really small, leathery looking creatures with large, knobby, bald heads that made they look like potatoes. Ron gestured for me to hand it over and he grabbed it by the other leg, holding the creature at arm’s length as it kicked at him with horny feet; grasping it firmly by the ankles, he turned the creature upside down. 

“Here’s what you have to do,” he told Harry and I as he raised the gnome over his head and started to swing it around in great circles like a lasso. Spotting the shock on both our faces, he smiled quickly and added, “Don’t worry, it doesn’t hurt them, we just have to get them dizzy enough that they can’t find their way back to their gnomeholes.” 

He released the gnome and sent it flying twenty feet into the air, only for it to land with a thud in the field over the hedge. 

“That was pitiful,” Fred said, shaking his head. “Bet I could get mine past that stump.”

Both Harry and I learned quickly not to feel too much sympathy for the gnomes. With the next gnome we caught, we thought to just drop it over the hedge, but the gnome, obviously sensing our weakness, sank its razor-sharp teeth into my hand. I shrieked and threw my arm around in an effort to dislodge it until –

“Wow, Chey, you must’ve sent him flying fifty feet…”

The air around us was soon thick with flying gnomes. 

“See, these blokes aren’t too bright,” George said as he seized five or six gnomes at once. “As soon as they know a de-gnoming going on, they’ll storm up to have a look. One would think they would’ve learned just to stay put by now.”

It wasn’t long until the crowd of gnomes out in the field began walking away in a straggling line, their shoulders hunched in defeat. 

“Don’t worry about them,” Ron said as we watched the gnomes disappear into the hedges on the other side of the field. “They’ll be back soon, they love it here….Dad’s a little too soft with them, thinks they’re funny…”

The front door suddenly slammed from the house.

“Dad’s back!” George said with a smile. 

We hurried back for the house and crowded back into the kitchen. 

Mr. Weasley was already slumped in a kitchen chair by the time we joined him, his glasses resting on the table in front of him while his eyes were closed. He was a tall, thin man with thinning hair that was as red as any of his children’s. He was dressed in dusty, travel-worn green robes. 

“Long night,” he mumbled as he groped around for the teapot set on the table before him while the five of us sat down around him. “Nine raids, nine! And then old man Mundungus Fletcher tried hexing me when my back was turned…”

Mr. Weasley took a long gulp of tea and heaved a deep sigh. 

“Did you find anything, Dad?” Fred asked him with an eager smile. 

“All I found were a few shrinking door keys and a biting kettle,” Mr. Weasley yawned in reply. “But there were still some pretty nasty things that my department didn’t handle going on. Mortlake had to be taken away for questioning when we found some extremely odd ferrets, but thankfully that’s the Committee on Experimental Charms job…” 

“Why would someone want to enchant keys to shrink?” George asked. 

“Muggle-baiting,” Mr. Weasley explained. “Sell a Muggle a key that’ll keep shrinking until it disappears so they’re never able to find it when they need it…Although, it would be difficult to convict anyone seeing as how the Muggles don’t like admitting their keys keep shrinking – they’ll keep insisting they’re just losing them, bless their souls that they don’t want to admit to their being magic in the world, even if it’s staring them right in the face…Just think of the things our kind have taken to enchanting, honestly –“

“LIKE CARS, FOR INSTANCE?”

Mr. Weasley jumped, his eyes widening as he turned to face his wife, who stood in the kitchen doorway, holding a fire poker like a sword. He blinked, gulping loudly. 

“C-cars, Molly, dear?”

“Yes, Arthur, cars,” Mrs. Weasley said with flashing eyes. “Just imagine a wizard buying a rusty old tin can of a car and telling his wife all he wanted to do was tinker with it, find out how it worked, although he really planned on enchanting it to make it fly.”

Mr. Weasley blinked again. 

“We-well, dear, I think if you were to look at the law, you’d be able to find that he would be quite within legal boundries to do this, e-even if he would have been better off telling his wife the truth….You see, there is a loophole in the law, easy enough to find, that states that as long as he wasn’t intending to fly the car, the simple fact that the car could fly wouldn’t –“

“Arthur Weasley, when you wrote that law, you made sure that such a loophole was there!” Mrs. Weasley shouted. “Just so you could be allowed to carry on tinkering with all your Muggle rubbish in that shed of yours! And just so you know, Harry and Cheyenne arrived early this morning in that car you weren’t intending to fly!”

“Harry and Cheyenne?” he asked with a blank stare. “Harry and Cheyenne who?”

He looked around at the rest of us and jumped again when he spotted Harry and I. 

“Good lord, it is Harry Potter and Cheyenne Power! I’ve very pleased to meet the two of you, Ron’s told us all so much about you –“

“Your sons flew your car to Harry and Cheyenne’s home and back again last night!” Mrs. Weasley shouted, drawing her husband’s attention again. “What do you have to say to that, hm?”

“Did you really?’ Mr. Weasley asked his sons eagerly. “Did the journey go all right? Er - erm, I - I mean,” he faltered at the scathing look from his wife. “That – that was very wrong of you to do boys, very wrong –“

“Let’s just leave them to it,” Ron muttered to Harry and Ron as Mrs. Weasley swelled like a bullfrog. “Cmon, I’ll show you both my bedroom.”

The three of us slipped out of the kitchen and followed a narrow passageway that led to an uneven staircase winding its way up through the house in a zigzagging pattern. When we reached the third landing, we spotted a door that stood ajar. I was sure I caught sight of a pair of bright brown eyes staring at us through the gap when the door closed with a snap. 

“Ginny,” Ron told us. “It’s weird seeing her like this, she not usually so quiet. Normally I can’t even get her to shut up.”

We climbed another couple flights of stairs until we reached another door; the paint was peeling here and there and a small plaque reading Ronald’s Room was attached to the wall beside it. 

Harry and I followed Ron inside, immediately feeling as though we had just stepped into a furnace as we ducked a little to avoid the sloped ceiling. Nearly everything in Ron’s room appeared to be colored in a violent shade of orange, from the bedspread to the walls and even the ceiling. It took us a moment to realize that nearly every inch of Ron’s room had been covered with posters of the same seven witches and wizards dressed in bright orange robes with broomsticks, their arms raised as they waved at us energetically. 

“Is this your Quidditch team?” I asked, bending down a little to get a look at one of the closest posters. 

“Yeah, the Chudley Cannons,” Ron said as he pointed to his orange bedpsread, which had been emblazoned with two giant black C’s and a speeding cannonball. “They’re ninth in the league.”

In one corner I spotted Ron’s school spellbooks stacked untidily alongsie a pile of comics entitled The Adventures of Martin Miggy, the Mad Muggle. On the windowsill sat a fish tank full of frog spawn where Ron’s wand rested, his fat gray rat, Scabbers, snoozing in a patch of sun beside it. 

Stepping over the pack of Self-Shuffling playing cards on the floor, I peered out the little window, spotting the gang of gnomes from earlier far below in the field sneaking one by one back through the hedge into the Weasley’s garden. Smiling to myself, I turned back to Ron, who was glancing between Harry and I nervously, waiting to hear what we had to say about his home and family. 

“I know it’s a bit small,” he told us quickly. “Smaller than the room you two shared at your Muggles’ house. I sleep under the attic, too, where the ghoul lives; he likes banging on the pipes and groaning a lot…” 

I smiled widely at Ron, “Ron, this is absolutely the best house we have ever seen or been in.” 

Ron’s ears turned pink.


	4. Journey to Flourish and Blotts

It didn’t take long for either Harry or I to discover just how different our lives at the Burrow were compared to how they were at Privet Drive. While the Dursleys liked to keep everything neat and organized, the Weasleys’ house was bursting at the seams with the strange and unexpected, which was, in my personal opinion, absolutely wonderful. It had been amusing to overhear what the mirror over the kitchen mantelpiece had told Harry the first time he’d caught his reflection in it and I’d spent a good ten minutes still giggling as my best friend tucked in his shirt, caught between surprised and embarrassed as he did. The ghoul in the attic was infamous for howling loudly and dropping pipes whenever it felt the house was getting too quiet and the sounds of explosions and bangs from Fred and George’s room were considered quite normal. But even after just a few days of all that, after getting used to them and feeling as though that was perfectly normal, like it was supposed to happen, there was one thing both Harry and I found extremely strange: the fact that everyone here seemed to actually like the two of us. 

From the first moment we stepped into the house, it was like Mrs. Weasley adopted us as two of her children; she doted on us constantly, trying to get us to eat as much as we were able to at every meal and fussed over our things whenever they were out of order. Mr. Weasley was a little better than his wife, but he was still welcoming, as he liked the two of us to sit next to him at the table and often liked to ask us about all the things we used at the Dursleys, even asking how these things worked, including plugs and the postal service. 

“That is fascinating!” he said as Harry and I told him how Muggles used a telephone. “It’s simply ingenious how Muggles have learned how to get along in their lives without magic as they have.” 

About a week after Harry and I arrived at the Burrow, we got our letters from Hogwarts telling us when term was due to start and what supplies we would need for the new year. It was a beautiful, sunny morning when Harry, Ron, and I came downstairs for breakfast, walking into the kitchen to find Mr. and Mrs. Weasley already seated at the table with Ginny. As soon as she laid eyes on Harry, Ginny accidentally knocked her porridge bowl to the floor with a resounding clatter. Ever since we had arrived, the youngest Weasley had seemed quite prone to knocking things over whenever either Harry or I, particularly Harry, was in the room. She dove to retrieve the bowl from under the table and emerged seconds later with her face glowing a red akin to the color of the setting sun. Having already agreed not to add fuel to the fire by saying anything about Ginny’s actions, Harry and I pretended not to have noticed and took our seats next to Mr. Weasley, gratefully accepting a couple of pieces of toast from Mrs. Weasley as we did. 

“Letters from school arrived today,” Mr. Weasley said as he passed Harry, Ron, and I the identical yellowish parchment envelopes, addressed to each of us in their usual green ink. “Dumbledore already knows the two’ve you are here, Harry, Cheyenne – never misses a trick, that man. Letters came for you two as well,” he added as Fred and George shuffled into the kitchen as well, still dressed in their pajamas. 

Silence filled the kitchen then as we all read our letters, the only sound that of parchment shuffling as it was moved. The usual date for catching the Hogwarts Express was written in our letters, telling us to arrive at King’s Cross on September 1st. Our new supply list came after it, reading:

Second-year students will require:

The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 2 by Miranda Goshawk

Break with a Banshee by Gilderoy Lockhart

Gadding with Ghouls by Gilderoy Lockhart

Holidays with Hags by Gilderoy Lockhart

Travels with Trolls by Gilderoy Lockhart

Voyages with Vampires by Gilderoy Lockhart

Wanderings with Werewolves by Gilderoy Lockhart

Year with the Yeti by Gilderoy Lockhart

“You lot’ve been told to get all the Lockhart books, too!” Fred’s voice by my ear almost made me jump clear our of my skin and I snapped my head up to look at him, willing my heart to slow as he peered at my book list over my shoulder. “Our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher must be a fan – probably a witch.”

Looking up and catching his mother’s eye, Fred quickly busied himself with the marmalade instead. 

“This lot won’t be cheap,” George said, glancing anxiously at his parents. “Lockhart’s books are really expensive…”

“I’m sure we’ll manage,” Mrs. Weasley said with a reassuring tone, although she did still look worried. “I expect when we get Ginny’s things we’ll be able to pick them up secondhand.”

“You’ll be starting at Hogwarts this year? That’s wonderful,” I said with a smile at the younger girl.

Her blush sped from her neck to her hairline as she nodded, accidentally putting her elbow in the butter dish. I smiled softly at her, grateful no one else had seemed to notice as Percy came into the kitchen then, already dressed with his Hogwarts prefect badge pinned to his chest while I helped Ginny clean the butter from her clothes. 

“Morning all,” he said briskly. “Lovely day.”

Taking his seat in the only remaining chair at the table, Percy leapt up again with a yelp, pulling what looked like a moulting, gray feather duster out from underneath him. But wait, was that….was it breathing?!

“Errol!” Ron said at once, taking the limp owl from his brother and extracting a letter from underneath its wing. “He’s finally got back with Hermione’s letter. I wrote to her last week about getting the two of you away from the Dursleys.” 

Carrying Errol to a perch built into the inside of the back door, Ron tried to stand the owl up inside it, only for him to flop straight off it again, so instead he lay him on the draining board instead, muttering, “Pathetic.” As he did so. Then he returned to his seat, ripping open Hermione’s letter to read it aloud:

“Dear Ron, and Harry and Chey, if you’re both there,

“I hope everything went all right and that both Harry and Cheyenne are already and that nothing illegal was used to get them out, Ron, because then both of them would get into trouble as well. I’ve been really worried about the two of them and if Harry and Chey are all right, please let me know at once, although maybe use a different owl, seeing as this one could be finished off from another delivery. 

“I’ve been kept busy with schoolwork,” Ron paused at that, his eyes wide, “How can she be, we’re on vacation?!” “and my parents and I are planning on going to London next Wednesday to buy my new books. We could all meet up in Diagon Alley.

“Be sure to send me another letter telling me what’s going on as soon as you’re able. Love from Hermione.”

“Well, that’s settled then, we can all go and get your things then, too.” Mrs. Weasley said briskly as she began clearing the table. “What are the lot of you going to do today?”

Harry, Ron, Fred, George, and I had been planning on going up the hill to the small paddock the Weasleys owned for a little Quidditch practice. Due to being surrounded by thick trees that blocked view from the village below, we would be able to fly our brooms up there, so long as we didn’t go over the treetops. Although we wouldn’t be able to use real Quidditch balls due to the danger of one of them getting free and flying off over the village, we decided to use apples to toss to one another instead. We would be taking turns riding my and Harry’s broomsticks while up there, both of which were agreed to be the best among our small group. 

Five minutes later we were marching up the hill, our broomsticks on our shoulders. We’d even invited Percy and Ginny to come, although the former said he was too busy while the later shyly agreed. The only thing either Harry or I had seen Percy had been at mealtimes; the rest of the time he spent locked up in his room. 

“I wish I know what he was up to in there,” Fred said with a frown. “Perce hasn’t been acting like himself. The day before the two of you came, he got his O.W.L.s results back and hardly even gloated at all.”

“Ordinary Wizarding Levels,” George explained upon spotting the quizzical look on my and Harry’s faces. “Bill got twelve, too. If we don’t look out, we’ll have another Head Boy in the family. I don’t think I’d be able to stand the shame.”

Bill was the oldest of the Weasley brothers. He and the second oldest, Charlie, had already left Hogwarts and gone off to start their own lives. Although neither Harry nor I had met them before, Ron had told us about how Charlie had gone off to Romania to study dragons and Bill had gone to Egypt to work for the wizarding band, Gringotts.

“I dunno how Mum and Dad’re going to be able to afford all our school stuff this year,” George said after a period of silence. “Five sets of Lockhart books, not to mention Ginny’s robes and wand and everything on top of that….”

Harry and I exchanged silent looks as Ginny glanced down at her shoes, neither of us sure what to say to this and feeling a tad awkward because of it. The two of us had our own small fortune stored in an underground vault at Gringotts in London that our parents had left behind for us before they’d died. Naturally it was only in the wizarding world that either of us had any money at all; Galleons, Sickles, and Knuts couldn’t be used in ordinary Muggle shops. Of course, though, we never mentioned our Gringotts bank account to any of the Dursleys; they probably didn’t even think wizards had any kind of way to keep track of money, let alone their own bank. 

 

Mrs. Weasley got us up early the following Wednesday and after we’d all had at least a half dozen bacon sandwiches each, we pulled on our coats and gathered around the fireplace, where Mrs. Weasley took a flowerpot from the kitchen mantelpiece and peered inside. 

“We’ll have to buy some more Floo Powder while we’re out today, Arthur,” she sighed. “We’re running low…all well, we’ll worry about that when we get there. Guests first, then. Go on, Harry, Cheyenne, dears!”

She offered us the flowerpot with a smile while Harry and I just blinked at it.

“U – um, wh – what’re we s – supposed to d – do exa – exactly?” I stuttered nervously, looking around at each of them. Ron suddenly slapped himself in the forehead. 

“They’ve never traveled by Floo Powder before,” he sighed, looking sheepish. “I’m sorry, Harry, Chey, I completely forgot.”

“Never?” Mr. Weasley inquired, cocking his head. “But then, how did the two of you get to Diagon Alley last year to buy your things?”

“We went with Hagrid on the Underground –“

“Did you really?” Mr. Weasley interrupted eagerly. “Did you use escapators? How do they –?”

“Now now, Arthur,” Mrs. Weasley cut in sharply, glaring pointedly at her husband. “Floo powder’s a lot faster, dears, but goodness, if neither of you’ve traveled by it before –“

“They’ll be all right, Mum,” Fred said with a smile at the two of us and a wink in my direction set my face aflame. “They learn quick. Just watch us first.”

Taking a quick pinch of glittering powder from the flowerpot, Fred stepped up to the fireplace and threw it into the licking flames. The fire roared and changed into a brilliant emerald green color, raising higher than Fred, who stepped into the very center of it and shouted, “Diagon Alley.” And with a whoosh, he was gone!

“You both must be sure to speak dearly, dears,” Mrs. Weasley told Harry and I as George took a pinch of powder from the flowerpot as well and stepped up for his turn. “And be sure to step out at the right grate…”

“The right what?” Harry asked her nervously as we watched George whip out of sight as well. 

“There are an awful lot of wizard fires connecting the Floo network, dears, but so long as you both speak clearly –“

“They’ll be fine, Molly, don’t fuss,” Mr. Weasley said softly as he helped himself to a pinch of Floo powder, too. 

“But, dear, what if one or both of them got lost? How ever would we be able to explain it to their aunt and uncle?”

“Don’t worry about them,” Harry said reassuringly, smiling grimly. I sighed, nodding, “He’s right, they wouldn’t really care. Dudley would probably think either Harry or I being lost up a chimney was a brilliant joke –“

“Well….all right, but please be careful, dears….you both can go after Arthur…” Mrs. Weasley said tentatively. “Now when you two get into the fire, just say where you’ll be going –“

“Be sure to keep your elbows tucked in,” Ron advised.

“And be careful of the soot, you’ll want to keep your eyes closed –“ Mrs. Weasley pointed out. 

“Be sure not to fidget,” Ron said. “Or you could fall out the wrong fireplace –“

“But be sure not to panic and get out too early; just wait until you spot Fred and George.”

Head spinning with all these different tidbits of advice, I took a pinch of Floo powder and stepped up to the hearth. Taking a deep breath, I scattered the powder into the flames and stepped in after them, enjoying the feeling of the flames engulfing me; it felt so warm, like a summer breeze; opening my mouth to speak, I immediately choked on a mouthful of hot ash. 

“D – Dia – gon Alley,” I coughed. 

I was immediately swept away into what felt like a whirlwind of fire and ash, spinning at an incredible speed, like I was in the eye of a twister – a deafening roar filled my ears as I tried keeping my eyes open, watching, waiting for the sight of familiar fire red hair, but the swirl of green flames and red brick brought forth a great feeling of nausea and I had to eventually squeeze them shut. My fists clenched at my sides and it wasn’t until I felt something cold occasionally slipping through the warmth surrounding me that I dared to sneak a peek from under my lashes – blurred visions of fireplaces and the rooms beyond flashed past – my stomach clenched tightly and I pressed my lips together in an effort to keep my bacon sandwiches in – I squeezed my eyes shut again, hoping, praying it would stop soon when – 

A loud yelp escaped my lips as I suddenly felt my legs get tugged out from underneath me, my eyes flying open as I slid out of a stone fireplace, coming to rest on a thin, scratchy mat. My vision swam before me and I had to squeeze my eyes shut again to keep the room from spinning as I flipped onto my side, carefully pushing myself first into a sitting, then a standing position, only opening my eyes once more when it felt like my head wasn’t spinning anymore. 

Wherever I had ended up, I knew I was totally and completely alone; the room where I stood was a large, dimly lit wizard’s shop, a very….gloomy kind of shop filled with items I was sure would never be on a Hogwarts school list. 

To my right, I spotted a glass case holding a withered hand on a cushion, a blood-stained pack of cards, and a staring glass eye that sent a cold shiver down my spine. Lining the walls were evil-looking masks that felt as though they were watching my every move and rusty, spiked instruments hung from the ceiling, while the counter across the room was lined with an assortment of human bones. And what was worse was the fact that the dark, narrow street I spotted through the dusty window was most certainly not Diagon Alley. 

Trying very hard to stomp down the panic and anxiety that started building within me, I quickly hugged myself and began searching frantically for a way out, deciding the sooner I got out of here, the better off I would be. Spotting my way out, I scurried quickly in that direction, internally grateful for the fact that I’d avoided injury greater than simple burns left behind from the mat I’d slid out on, telling myself later I would have to be sure to ask Mrs. Weasley for something for it. Halfway to my freedom, however, a couple of faces appeared in the glass, my heart dropping immediately when I saw one of them being the last person I’d hoped to see while I was lost and covered head to foot in soot: Draco Malfoy. 

Skidding to a halt, I cast a frantic eye around myself, my anxiety rising once more until I spotted a large black cabinet to my left, big enough to hide me from sight. I clambered inside and pulled the doors closed until only a small crack was left between them so I could watch what was going on safely out of sight. Just as I got myself comfortable, the bell out in the shop chimed, announcing Malfoy had stepped inside. I sighed lowly to myself, feeling a though I’d just stepped into one of my own nightmares. 

The man that followed him inside couldn’t be anyone but Malfoy’s father. They certainly looked alike, with similar pale, pointed face and cold, steely eyes. Mr. Malfoy crossed the shop swiftly, casting a lazy eye over the items that were on display as he rang the bell sitting on the counter before turning to his son once more, “Do not touch a thing, Draco.”

Malfoy stopped with his hand halfway extended toward the glass eye, glancing back at his father, “I thought you said you’d be buying me a present.” 

“I told you I would buy you a new racing broom,” the older man said, his fingers drumming against the countertop. 

“But what’s the good of a new racing broom if I’m not on a House team?” Malfoy said sulkily, crossing his arms in a bad-temper. “Harry Potter and Cheyenne Power’ve both got a Nimbus Two Thousand from last year. Got special permission from Dumbledore so they could play for Gryffindor. They’re not even that great; it’s just because they’re famous…just because of those stupid scars on their foreheads….”

Malfoy bent down to look over the shelf-full of skulls. 

“…everyone thinks they’re just so smart, wonderful Powter with their stupid scars and broomsticks –“

“Yes, you’ve told me this at least a dozen times already,” Mr. Malfoy drawled, shooting his son a quelling look. “And I would like to remind you that it is not quite prudent to appear less than fond of Harry Potter and Cheyenne Power when most of our own kind regard both of them as the heroes who defeated the Dark Lord – ah, Mr. Borgin.”

A stooped man appeared behind the counter, smoothing his greasy hair away from his face. 

“Mr. Malfoy, it’s a pleasure to see you again,” Mr. Borgin said in a voice that was a oily as his hair. “I’m quite delighted – and I see you have the young master accompanying you today – charming. How may I assist you? If you’re interested, I just got something in today I’m selling at a very reasonable price –“

“I’m not here to buy today, Mr. Borgin, I’m just selling,” Mr. Malfoy said. 

“Selling?” Mr. Borgin’s smile faltered a little bit. 

“Yes, as I’m sure you’ve heard, the Ministry has been conducting more raids,” Mr. Malfoy replied disdainfully, pulling a roll of parchment from his robes and unraveling it for Mr. Borgin to read. “I do have a few – erm – items at home that could get me in a tight spot if the Ministry were to call upon my residence…”

Mr. Borgin pushed a pair of pince-nez up his nose and examined the list. 

“Surely the Ministry wouldn’t presume to trouble you, sir?”

Mr. Malfoy’s lip curled.

“They have yet to visit me, seeing as the name Malfoy still commands a certain level of respect, but the Ministry continues to grow ever more meddlesome. There have been rumors of a new Muggle Protection Act, undoubtedly being reinforced by that flea-bitten, Muggle-loving fool Arthur Weasley –“

I clenched my fists in my lap and gritted my teeth angrily.

“ – and as you’re able to tell, some of the poisons listed here might make it appear –“

“Yes, sir, I quite understand,” Mr. Borgin said placated. “Now, let me just see…”

“Can I have this?” Draco interrupted as he pointed to the withered hand resting on it’s cushion. 

“Ah, the Hand of Glory!” Mr. Borgin said cheerfully as he abandoned Mr. Malfoy’s list to scurry over to Draco. “Just insert a candle and it gives light solely to the holder! It’s the best friend of thieves and plunderers! Your son has very fine taste, sir.”

“I sincerely hope my son will amount to much more than a common thief or plunderer, Borgin,” Mr. Malfoy replied coldly, making Mr. Borgin hurried back track, “I meant no offense, sir –“

“Although, if his grades don’t improve,” Mr. Malfoy continued, his voice dropping in temperature even more, “then that may be all he could be fit for –“

“It’s not my fault,” Draco quipped hotly. “All the teachers have their favorites, that Hermione Granger and Cheyenne Power –“

“I would have thought that being bested by a girl with no wizard family and a girl who does not even know her own parents in every exam would shame you enough to not mention it in the presence of others,” Mr. Malfoy snapped. 

I had to bite down on my tongue in order to stifle the giggle threatening to escape my lips, pleased to see the angry flush to Draco’s face. 

‘It’s really the same all over nowadays,” Mr. Borgin said in his oily voice. “It seems wizard blood is counting for less and less –“

“Not with me,” Mr. Malfoy growled, his long nostrils flaring. 

“No, sir, no of course not, not with me either, sir,” Mr. Borgin said, bowing deeply. 

“Hm, in that case, shall we return to my list?” Mr. Malfoy said shortly. “I am in a bit of a hurry, Borgin, I do have important business I have elsewhere –“

Mr. Borgin returned to the counter where they began to haggle. My attention turned to the younger Malfoy, watching with growing anxiety as he drew closer and closer to my hiding spot, examining everything for sale. Draco paused when he came to a long coil of hangman’s rope and a magnificent necklace of opals with a card propped up beside it, reading Do Not Touch. Cursed – Has Claimed the Lives of Nineteen Muggle Owners to Date. 

Turning away from the necklace, Draco spotted the cabinet I currently resided in, his steely gray eyes lighting up. He moved forward and I scrambled backward until I hit the back of the cabinet, my breath hitching as my heart sped up. Oh Gods, please, please don’t let him open those doors, please –

“Done!” Mr. Malfoy’s voice rang throughout the shop. “Come along, Draco –“ 

I let out a shaky breath and leaned limply against the back wall, closing my eyes for a moment before I shifted forward to peer through the little gap in the doors, watching as Draco headed back toward his father. 

“Have a good day, Mr. Borgin. I expect to see you at the manor tomorrow for the goods.”

As soon as the door closed behind them, Mr. Borgin immediately dropped his oily manner. 

“Yes, good day to yourself, Mister Malfoy, and if the stories are true then you haven’t sold me half of what you have hidden in your manor….”

Muttering darkly to himself, Mr. Borgin disappeared once more into the back room. Waiting a minute to be sure he didn’t come back, I opened the cabinet door and climbed out as quietly as I could, hurrying toward the shop door. 

Trying to keep a tight hold on my anxiety, which seemed to be growing with each moment, I looked around myself, trying to take deep breathes. I’d stepped out into a dingy alleyway lined up with shops that seemed entirely devoted to the Dark Arts. The one I’d just left, Borgins and Burkes, appeared to be the largest out of all of them, but facing it was a nasty window display of shrunken heads and a few doors down was a large cage brimming with gigantic black spiders. To my left stood two shabby-looking wizards standing in the shadow of a doorway, muttering to one another. Trying very, very hard not to hyperventilate and clutching at the silver locket Harry had gotten me for my last birthday, I hurried off down the cobbled street, hoping and praying I’d be able to find my way out of this place. 

As I hurried toward a shop selling poisonous candles, I spotted an old wooden sign swinging above the door reading Knockturn Alley. I’d read of this place before, it was an alley leading off Diagon Alley. It wasn’t a wonder I’d ended up here, considering how I hadn’t been speaking all that clearly through that mouthful of hot ash back in the Weasleys’ fire. Pausing for a moment beside the shop, I glanced around, wondering how exactly I could tell if I was going the right way or not, feeling my anxiety and panic rising. 

“Oh, a lost little lamb, hm?” A voice breathed hotly in my ear, making me jump and whirl around, almost knocking over a stack of crates nearby as I backed away. 

An older looking witch stood before me, holding a tray of suspicious looking items that looked (my stomach turned at the sight) like whole human fingernails. She leered up at me, flashing mossy teeth. I clutched tighter at my necklace. 

“N – no, I – I’m not lost, n- no – not lost a – at all – I – I was ju – just –“

“CHEYENNE! What d’yeh think yer doin’ in a place like this?”

My heart lifted and turned in the direction of the voice as the witch jumped, more than half her fingernails cascading down over her feet. Cursing loudly and glaring up at the massive figure of the Hogwarts gamekeeper striding toward us, she stooped down to pick her stock up while he stopped beside us, his beetle-black eyes flashing and his great beard bristling. 

“Hagrid!” I almost wept with relief. “I – I got lo – lo – lost – it – Flo – Floo P – Pow – Powder –“

Sweeping me up into the crook of his arm, Hagrid swung me away from the witch, knocking the tray from her hands as he did so. Her shrieks followed after us all the way up the twisting alleyway out into bright sunlight. I looked up from where I clutched at Hagrid’s coat in time to spot the familiar, snow-white marble of Gringotts Bank in the distance. Hagrid had brought me back to Diagon Alley. 

“Geeze, Cheyenne,” Hagrid sighed as he set me down, peering down at me critically. “Yer a mess!” He tried t brush me off, but mainly succeeded in almost knocking me off balance into a barrel of dragon dung standing outside the apothecary. “Yeh shouldn’ be skulkin’ ‘round Knockturn Alley, I dunno – it’s a really dodgy place – yeh shouldn’ let anyone see yeh down there –“ 

“I know that, Hagrid,” I said, quickly dodging Hagrid’s hand as he attempted to brush me off again. “I just got lost, I tried travelling by Floo Powder for the first time, you have no idea how grateful I am that you’ve found me an – wait, wh – why were you -?”

“I had ter go lookin’ fer Flesh-Eatin’ Slug Repellent,” Hagrid growled. “They’ve been ruinin’ the school cabbages. Yer not on yer own, are yeh?”

“No, no, Harry and I are staying with the Wealseys, but we got separated,” I explained. “I need to find them…”

With that, we headed off down the street together. 

“Hey, how come neither yeh nor Harry ever wrote back ter me?” Hagrid asked as I jogged to keep up with him, having to take three steps to match his every stride. I explained about Dobby and the Dursleys. 

“Those lousy Muggles,” Hagrid growled. “If only I’d known –“

“Cheyenne! Chey! Over here!”

I turned, spotting Hermione standing at the top of the flight of stairs leading into Gringotts. She ran down to meet us, her bushy brown hair flying behind her like a banner. 

“I’m so happy to see you, it’s been ages and – what in Merlin’s name happened to you, you’re covered in soot! Hello, Hagrid – it’s wonderful seeing the both of you again – are you going into Gringotts, Chey?”

“Once I’ve found Harry and the Weasleys.” I said, chewing my bottom lip. 

“I don’t think yeh’ll have long ter wait,” Hagrid said, grinning. 

Hermione and I blinked up at the giant before exchanging glances and turning around, spotting a mass of red sprinting toward us, one black mob of hair mixed into the bunch. 

“Chey!” Harry exclaimed as he threw his arms around me, pulling me into a tight hug before he moved back again, holding me at arm’s length so he could look me over for injuries. 

“Thank goodness,” Mr. Weasley panted from behind him, mopping at the sweat that had gathered on his glistening bald patch. “We’d hoped you’d only gone one grate too far….Molly’s been frantic, she’s coming now –“

“Where’d you come out?” Ron and Harry asked together. 

“Knockturn Alley,” Hagrid replied grimly for me. 

“Excellent!” Fred and George chimed.

“We’ve never been allowed to go there,” Ron muttered enviously. 

“I should think not!” Hagrid growled. 

It was at that moment that Mrs. Weasley came galloping into view, her handbag swinging wildly from one arm while Ginny was just managing to cling onto the other. 

“Oh, Cheyenne – oh sweetie – you could have appeared anywhere –“

Gasping for breath, she pulled a large clothing brush out of her bag and began sweeping the soot from my clothes that Hagrid hadn’t been able to beat away. Harry gently took my glasses to clean them and returned them to me. 

“Well, I’ve gotta be headin’ off,” Hagrid said as Mrs. Weasley wrung his hand, thanking him endlessly for finding me. “I’ll see yeh all at Hogwarts!” And with that, he strode off, his head and shoulders far surpassing anyone else’s. 

“Oh, I have to tell you about who I saw in Borgin and Burkes!” I said, suddenly remembering what I’d seen back in Knockturn Alley as we climbed the Gringotts steps. “It was Malfoy and his father.”

“Did Lucius Malfoy buy anything?” Mr. Weasley asked sharply from behind us. 

“No, he didn’t buy, he was selling –“

“Ah, so he’s worried,” Mr. Weasley said with a grim smile. “Oh, how I’d love to catch Lucius Malfoy for something….”

“You’d best be careful, Arthur,” Mrs. Weasley interrupted in a sharp voice as we were bowed inside by the goblin at the door. “That family isn’t anything but trouble. If I were you, I wouldn’t go biting off more than you can chew –“

“So you don’t think I’m a match for Lucius Malfoy?” Mr. Weasley asked indignantly, looking ready to argue until he caught sight of Hermione’s parents standing nervously at one end of the long counter that ran all along the great marble hall, waiting for introductions to be made. 

“But they’re Muggles!” Mr. Weasley said in a delighted tone when he caught his wife’s look. “Oh, we must have a drink! What’s that you’ve got there? Oh, you’re exchanging Muggle money for wizarding coins! Molly, look!” He pointed excitedly at the ten-pound notes Mr. Granger was holding. 

“We’ll meet you back here,” Ron said to Hermione as he, Harry, and I followed the rest of the Weasleys off the hall to the underground vaults. 

Our vaults were reached through transportation on small, goblin-driven cars speeding along miniature train tracks built throughout the bank’s underground tunnels. I closed my eyes to enjoy the breakneck speed of the cart as we journeyed down to the Weasleys’ fault, only for my heart to fall further than it had when I’d ended up in Knockturn Alley when the vault opened. The inside was almost bare aside from a very small pile of silver Sickles and a single gold Galleon. Mrs. Weasley felt around the corners for any hidden coins before sweeping the pile into her bag. Harry and I exchanged silent looks, both feeling especially bad when we reached our own vault. Doing our best to block view of our own contents with our bodies, we hastily gathered some coins into a couple of leather bags before closing the vault once more. 

Once we were back outside on the marble steps, we all separated. Percy muttered vaguely about going to get himself a new quill, while Fred and George had spotted their schoolmate/friend, Lee Jordan. Mrs. Weasley headed off with Ginny to a secondhand robe shop and Mr. Weasley insisted on taking the Grangers back to the Leaky Cauldron for a drink. 

“Let’s all meet up at Flourish and Blotts in an hour so we can buy all your schoolbooks,” Mrs. Weasley said as she set off with Ginny. “And don’t you dare set foot in Knockturn Alley, you two!” she shouted after the retreating twins. 

Harry, Ron, Hermione, and I headed off along the winding, cobbled street. My bag of gold, silver, and bronze jangled cheerfully in my pocket, begging to be spent, so Harry and I split the cost of four large strawberry-and-peanut-butter ice creams, which we enjoyed as we wandered up the alley, checking out the fascinating shop windows. When we reached Quality Quidditch Supplies, Ron stopped to gaze longingly at a full set of Chudley Cannons robes displayed in the window until Hermione dragged us off so we could resupply on ink and parchment in the shop next door. We bumped into Fred, George, and Lee Jordan in Gambol and Japes Wizarding Shop, where they were stocking up on Dr. Filibuster’s Fabulous Wet-Start, No-Heat Fireworks, while Percy was hidden in the back of a tiny junk shop full of broken wands, lopsided brass scales, and old cloaks covered in faded potion stains, deeply immersed in a small, boring book entitled Prefects Who Gained Power.

“A Study of the Prefects of Hogwarts and their successful careers,” Ron read from the back cover. “Well…that does sound fascinating….”

“Go away,” Percy snapped. 

“ ‘Course he would be reading something like that, he’s always been very ambitious, already got it all planned out…He wants to be Minister of Magic…” Ron told Harry, Hermione, and I in an undertone as we left Percy to his book. 

An hour later we headed for Flourish and Blotts to meet up with the rest of the Weasleys and the Grangers. The four of us, though, weren’t the only ones making our way toward the bookshop, as, to our surprise, we spotted a large crowd jostling just outside the doors, pushing and shoving each other to get inside. As we got closer, we spotted the reason for this being displayed by means of a large banner that stretched across the upper windows:

GILDEROY LOCKHART will be signing copies of his autobiography MAGICAL ME today from 12:30 P.M. to 4:30 P.M.

“We’ll actually be able to meet him!” Hermione squealed excitedly. “I mean, he’s written almost our entire booklist this year!”

The crowd around us seemed to be made up mostly of witches around Mrs. Weasley’s age, being fended off at the door by a tired-looking wizard, who was trying to speak above their chatter, “Please ladies, let’s try to go about this as calmly as possible…hey, no pushing….be sure to mind the books now….”

Harry, Ron, Hermione, and I squeezed inside, spotting the long line that wound around the shop that led to the very back of the shop, where Gilderoy Lockhart would be signing his books. Grabbing a copy of The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 2 each, we snuck up the line to where the rest of the Weasleys and Grangers were standing.

“Oh, there the four of you are, good,” Mrs. Weasley said breathlessly, patting constantly at her hair. “We’ll be able to see him in just a minute….”

It was at that moment that Gildery Lockhart sauntered into view, grinning around at the crowd as he took his seat at the table surrounded by large pictures of his own face, each of them winking and flashing dazzlingly white teeth at all of us. The man before us was dressed in robes of forget-me-not blue that matched his eyes with a matching pointed wizard’s hat set at a jaunty angle over his wavy hair. 

Dancing around the table where the celebrity was currently residing was a short, irritable-looking man taking photographs with a large black camera, which emitted puffs of purple smoke after every blinding flash. 

“Get out of the way,” he snarled at Ron as he tried moving back for a better shot. “I need to get a good shot for the Daily Prophet –“

“Oh big deal,” Ron grumbled as he rubbed his foot, which the photographer had stepped on. 

Gilderoy Lockhart heard him and looked up, his eyes training on Ron for a split second before they flicked in my and Harry’s direction. He stared for a moment and I could swear I could almost see the cogs slowly turning in his mind, my stomach dropping as realization dawned on his face. He leapt to his feet, positively crowing with pleasure, “It can’t be: Harry Potter and Cheyenne Power!”

The crowd immediately parted, whispering excitedly; Lockhart dove toward us, seizing both Harry and I by the wrists to drag us to the front, where the crowd burst into applause. My face burned with embarrassment and with a glance at Harry, I could see his own cheeks glowing red as Lockhart took turning shaking our hands while the photographer clicked away madly on his camera, wafting thick smoke over the crowd. 

“Give some nice big smiles, Harry, Cheyenne,” Lockhart told us around his own gleaming smile. “Together, all three of us are worth the front page.”

By the time Harry and I finally got our hands back, they were practically numb from how tightly Lockhart had been gripping them. Quickly grabbing my other hand, Harry and I tried sidling back over to the Weasleys, only to be stopped when Lockhart threw his arms around our shoulders and pulled us tightly against his sides. 

“Ladies and gentleman,” he called loudly to quiet the crowd. “This is truly an extraordinary moment! And such a perfect opportunity for me to make a little announcement I’ve been meaning to make for some time!

“You see, when this young couple here stepped into Flourish and Blotts today, their simple wish was to purchase their own copies of my autobiography – which I shall be more than happy to present to the two of them, free of charge –“ The crowd applauded. “However, they had no idea,” Lockhart continued, shaking Harry and I hard enough that our glasses slid down to the ends of our noses, “that they would shortly be getting much, much more than just my book, they and their classmates will, in fact, be getting the very much real, magical me. That’s right, ladies and gentlemen, I am delighted to announce I will be taking up the post of Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.”

The crowd cheered and clapped while Harry and I were presented with the entire collection of Gilderoy Lockhart’s books. Staggering under the weight, we somehow managed to make our way out of the limelight to the edge of the room, where Fred and Ginny were waiting with her other school supplies. 

Fred moved forward to help me as Harry tipped his books into Ginny’s cauldron, catching my books as they started tipping forward; his hand touched mine. My cheeks warmed and I smiled gratefully up at him as he took them from me, tipping them into Ginny’s cauldron as well. 

“You can have those books if you want them, Fred, I don’t mind buying my own.” I told him softly, rubbing the back of my neck sheepishly when he gave me a quizzical look, cocking his head.

“Are you sure, Chey?” He asked, looking unsure if he should take them or not. I nodded, “Yeah, I don’t mind, really –“

“I bet the two of you just loved that, didn’t you, Powter?” I froze at that all too familiar, drawling voice and inwardly groaned, turning with Harry, Fred, and Ginny, coming face to face with none other than Draco Malfoy, who was sneering at the four of us. 

“Famous Harry Potter and Cheyenne Power,” he said. “Neither can even go to a bookshop without making the front page.”

“Leave Harry and Cheyenne alone, they didn’t want all that attention.” Ginny said, surprising all of us since she’d just spoken for the first time in front of either of us. She was giving Malfoy a headed glare. 

“She’s right, leave them be Malfoy, they didn’t want any of that attention,” Fred said coldly, glaring, hard, at Malfoy as well. 

“Oooh, looks like you two’ve been cheating on each other, Powter,” Mafloy drawled. “I thought the two’ve you loved each other. But then, I guess the Weasleys must have some kind of appeal in one way or another.” Fred and Ginny immediately turned scarlet as Harry and I pinked. Before either of us could speak, however, Ron and Hermione managed to fight their way through the crowd, each of them with their own stack of Lockhart books. 

“Malfoy,” Ron said when he spotted our classmate, looking as though he’d just found something unpleasant on the underside of his shoe. “Surprised to see Harry and Chey here, aren’t you?”

“Not as surprised as I am to see you in a shop, Weasley,” Malfoy retorted sharply. “I suppose your parents will have to do without food for the next month in order to pay for all your books.”

Ron turned as red as his siblings. Dropping his books into Ginny’s cauldron, too, he moved to attack, but was stopped when Harry and Fred seized him around the arms.

“Ron, Fred!” Mr. Weasley called as he struggled over with George behind him. “What’re you two doing? How about we step outside, it’s too crowded in here.”

“Well well well, Arthur Weasley.”

Lucius Malfoy appeared behind his son, his hand on Draco’s shoulder, his sneer identical to the younger man’s. 

“Lucius,” Mr. Weasley said, nodding coldly in acknowledgment. 

“It’s been quite busy at the Ministry, I hear,” Mr. Malfoy said. “With all those raids being conducted….I do hope they’re paying you overtime for it.”

Reaching into Ginny’s cauldron, he extracted, from among the glossy Lockhart books, a very old, battered copy of Beginner’s Guide to Transfiguration.

“Hm, obviously not,” Mr. Malfoy jeered. “Oh dear me, what could be the use of being a disgrace to the name of wizard if you’re not being properly paid for it?”

Mr. Weasley flushed darker than any of his children had before. 

“At least he has a clear enough conscious that enables him the ability to be considered a noble wizard,” I snapped back at him before I could think to stop myself. Mr. Malfoy’s pale eyes glanced down at me, narrowing tightly while I glared heatedly up at him. Hermione touched my shoulder as Mr. Weasley moved in front of us, blocking me from Mr. Malfoy’s view. 

“Hm, I can see you have clearly corrupted young Miss Power, Weasley….I would have thought you’d sunk so low it would have humbled you enough that you wouldn’t drag anyone else down with you –“

The thud of metal rang throughout the shop as Ginny’s cauldron was sent flying; Mr. Weasley threw himself at Mr. Malfoy, knocking him backward into a tall bookshelf. Dozens of heavy spell books came raining down on all our heads, eliciting cries of surprise from the crowd while Fred and George called out encouragement and Mrs. Weasley called for her husband to stop. The crowd was suddenly stampeding backward, knocking more bookshelves over in their wake as the assistant tried to call order. I stumbled backward, bumping into Harry, who seized me around the waist and sandwiched me between him and the wall to avoid the crowd while a louder voice suddenly boomed over our heads –

“C’mon, break it up now, gents, break it up –“

Hagrid came wading into view through the sea of books, reaching down to pull Mr. Weasley and Mr. Malfoy apart. Both were in bad shape, with Mr. Weasley sporting a cut lip and Mr. Malfoy a black eye where he had been hit by the Encyclopedia of Toadstools. Still clutching Ginny’s old Transfiguration book in his hand, he thrust it roughly at her as he was set down, his eyes glittering with malice. 

“Here, girl – take your book – it’s the best your father will ever be able to give you –“ He spat, pulling himself from Hagrid’s grip as he beckoned Draco after him and swept from the shop. 

“Yeh should’ve just ignored him, Arthur,” Hagrid said as he nearly lifted Mr. Weasley off his feet in his attempt to fix his robes. “They’re all just rotten ter the core that family is, everyone knows it’s true – no Malfoy’s ever worth lsitenin’ ter – alla ‘em with their bad blood – come on now – let’s get yeh outta here.”

The shop assistant looked as though he wanted to stop us from leaving but was too frightened at the sight of Hagrid, who he could barely meet at the waist. We all hurried up the street, the Grangers shaking from fright while Mrs. Weasley was beside herself with fury.

‘That’s just a fine example for you to set for your children….fighting in public….oh what Gilderoy Lockhart must have thought –“

“He was quite pleased, actually,” Fred said. “None of you heard what he said when we left? He actually asked that bloke from the Daily Prophet if he’d managed to get any pictures and if he’d be able to get it in his report, too – said something about publicity –“

Even with that somewhat cheerful bit of news, our group was quite subdued as we headed back to the fireside in the Leaky Cauldron, where Harry, the Weasleys, and I would be returning to the Burrow via Floo Powder with all our shopping. We said our good-byes to the Grangers in the pub, which they would be leaving for the Muggle street on the other side; Mr. Weasley, looking positively giddy at the prospect, began to ask them about how the buses worked, only to be cut off by his wife, who was still glaring heatedly at him after what had happened earlier. 

Tentatively taking a bit of Floo powder from the sack Mrs. Weasley offered, I stepped up for my turn, sighing to myself, knowing this was definitely not my favorite way to travel.


	5. Journey to Hogwarts

The end of our summer vacation came a little too quickly for either my or my best friend’s liking. Although the two of us were so looking forward to getting back to Hogwarts, but the month we had spent at the Burrow had been the happiest in our life and we wished it didn’t have to come to an end. When we thought about what we would have to expect when we returned to the Dursleys next summer, both of us found it difficult not to be jealous of Ron for being raised in such a loving, kind family. 

On our last night together, Mrs. Weasley conjured up a delicious meal, which included all of my and Harry’s favorites, concluding with a mouthwatering treacle pudding. Fred and George even rounded off our evening wth a display of Filibuster fireworks, filling the kitchen with red and blue stars that bounced from ceiling to wall for a good half hour. And after that we had time for one last mug of hot chocolate before bed. 

The next morning was chaotic to say the least; even though we got up at dawn, we still somehow had a great deal to do. Mrs. Weasley dashed about the house in a bad mood as she looked for spare socks and quills and everyone kept colliding on the stairs as they rushed about doing their own part to get ready, some still only half-dressed with pieces of toast in their mouth or hands. Poor Mr. Weasley nearly broke his neck carrying Ginny’s trunk out to the car when he tripped over a stray chicken in the yard. 

When I stopped to think about it, though, I couldn’t really fathom how nine people, seven large trunks, three owls, and a rat were going into fit into the small Ford Anglia we would be taking to the train station. Well, that is….until I noticed the special features Mr. Weasley had added.

“Not a word to Molly,” he’d whispered to Harry and I as he opened the trunk, showing us how he had magically expanded it so that we could all fit our luggage inside easily. Well, I had to give Mr. Weasley credit, he really knew how to use magic to his advantage when it was needed. 

When we were finally in the car and ready to leave, Mrs. Weasley glanced into the back seat, where Harry and I were seated comfortably with Ron, Fred, George, and Percy and said, “Hm, Muggles really do know more than we’ve given them credit for, don’t they?” She nodded to her husband as she and Ginny got into the front with him, which he had stretched long enough to resemble a park bench. “I mean, you wouldn’t think it would be this roomy if you looked at it from the outside, would you?”

Mr. Weasley nodded as he started up the engine and we trundled out of the yard. Harry and I turned in our seats for one last look at the house, just beginning to wonder to ourselves when we would see it again when we came back five minutes later so George could grab his box of Filibuster fireworks. Another five minutes passed when we had to come back so Fred could run to get his broomstick. When we trundled off again, we were almost on the highway when Ginny shrieked about forgetting her diary at home and by the time she’d retrieved it and clambered back into the car, we were running very late and tempers were running very high. 

Mr. Weasley looked at his watch as he steered the car onto the highway before looking at his wife.

“Molly, dear –“

“No, Arthur –“

“But if I simply use this little button here that I installed, the Invisibility Booster, then we could just get up into the air and fly above the clouds. We’d get to the station in ten minutes and no one would be any the wiser –“

“I said no, Arthur, and I meant it, we are not doing that in broad daylight –“

By the time we’d reached King’s Cross, it was quarter to eleven. Mr. Weasley crossed the road to get us all trolleys and we hurried into the station. 

Harry and I had caught the Hogwarts Express the previous year to get to school, thanks to the Weasley family. The only tricky part was actually getting onto platform nine and three-quarters, which was invisible to the Muggle eye. What we had to do was walk through the solid barrier that separated platforms nine and ten. It was relatively safe, with the only danger being the Muggles catching sight of us vanishing. 

“Percy, you first,” Mrs. Weasley said, glancing nervously up at the cloak overhead, which told us we only had five minutes to disappear as casually as we could through the barrier. 

Percy strode forward briskly and vanished. Mr. Weasley went next with George and Fred ushered me forward to go with him. Telling Harry and Ron I’d save them a seat, I wheeled my trolley around and Fred and I set off toward the barrier, leaning forward on the handles of our trolleys as we gathered speed. Through the gate onto the packed platform we went, Mr. Weasley quickly ushering us to go on ahead to find a compartment for ourselves while he waited for his wife and daughter. The twins and I pushed our way through the crowd together, hurrying off along the train to do as we were told, pushing our way through the crowd of parents packed onto the platform, waving goodbye to their children, who were leaning out the windows and doors to speak with them; fortunately for us Lee Jordan and Hermione had already secured a couple of compartments halfway down the train and came out to steer us in the right direction. One by one, we heaved our trunks up onto the train and into the storage racks, ready to put Elon up with them when Ginny and her parents caught up with us and we had to hurry off to get her things onboard.

A shrill whistle pierced the air, announcing the train’s departure and the conductor called for everyone to board as the doors began to close. Mrs. Weasley hugged Ginny and I, who had stayed on the platform to say goodbye to Mr. and Mrs. Weasley while the twins heaved her trunk into our compartment, then ushered the two of us onto the train, telling us both to have a good year and to behave ourselves. 

“Don’t worry, Mrs. Weasley, we’ll look out for Ginny and make sure she gets used to the castle,” I promised her as the door swung closed behind us and we stuck our heads out the window for a few last minute words. “Thank you so much for the amazing summer, Harry and I had a great time.” I told her with a smile, squeezing her hand gratefully.

She smiled brightly back up at me, “It was nothing, Cheyenne, dear, it was our pleasure to have the two of you join us for the summer. Arthur and I’ll try to call for you and Harry sooner next summer and we’ll be sure to do it without using that dratted car.” 

I giggled in amusement at that, nodding, “If spending next summer with your family is half as fun as this summer was, then how we’re able to get to your home again should not matter. I’ll be sure to extend the invitation to Harry when I see him; we’ll be looking forward to next summer.” I told her brightly, giving her hand another grateful squeeze as the whistle blew again, the wheels beneath us hissing as they began to move, making us lurch in place. Mrs. Weasley gave my hand an affection squeeze and then released me, moving back with her husband to wave us off, “Pass along my love to the boys and Hermione, dears!” She called as we began pulling away from the station. Ginny and I waved to her as the train began gathering speed, promising to pass it onto the others as the couple grew smaller and then disappeared with the first bend.

Pulling back into the train together, I closed the door window and then ushered Ginny before me back into the compartment, where the others had settled into their seats. Passing Mrs. Weasley’s love onto the others, Ginny and I took the empty seats beside Hermione, who was sitting at the window across from lee Jordan.

“Always like mum to worry like a mother hen,” George said with an affectionate smile, shaking his head before he glanced toward the train corridor, humming to himself, “I do wonder when Ron and Harry’ll be joining us, though. No doubt they had to get on the train quick and didn’t have time to find a compartment.”

“I wouldn’t worry too much about it, I’m sure they’ll join us shortly,” Fred said nonchalantly, shrugging his shoulders as I glanced toward the corridor as well, hoping the two hadn’t’ve missed the train; we had been kind of rushed to get through the barrier, so maybe it was possible….a tiny little voice in the back of my mind was nagging at me that something was amiss, that something just wasn’t right…

“Well, hopefully they haven’t missed the train,” Hermione said, unknowingly voicing my thoughts aloud, drawing me back to the present. “Let’s give them about ten minutes, then we’ll go make sure. Does that sound good, Chey?”

I looked up at her and nodded my head, pushing the little voice into the deepest recesses of my mind and smiling gratefully, “Sounds like a good plan to me. They’re probably on their way here now. Anyone want to play Exploding Snap while we wait?”

A chorus of cheers was my only reply and I smiled as Fred grabbed his pack from his bag so we could play. Cutting the cards, he passed them out to everyone and we began a game, laughing and joking while we played. We got so into our game, we didn’t realize how much time had passed until we were almost finished. A knock came at the compartment door as we played the last couple of cards, making us all look up, my heart raising hopefully, only to sink back into my stomach as the door slid open to reveal my and Hermione’s fellow 2nd year Gryffindor, Neville Longbottom, a nervous, accident-prone young man, poked his smooth, round face into the compartment, nodding in hello to everyone. 

“Hello Neville,” Hermione greeted brightly as George gathered together all the cards and began to shuffle them and I checked my wristwatch for the time, suddenly remembering our agreement, my heart sinking further when I realized how long it’d been. “Come to join us? We were just playing Exploding Snap waiting for Harry and Ron to join us.”

“Harry and Ron aren’t with you…?” Neville asked with a worried frown, glancing in my direction, knowing he and I were never too far from one another, gauging my reaction. I continued to frown at the face of my watch and got up. “No, they’re not…they should’ve been here by now…” I muttered, worry beginning to gnaw at my gut, making my heart twist painfully in my chest as my teeth worried my bottom lip. “We should go check to make sure they didn’t miss the train….”

Hermione grabbed my wrist to pull my watch up to her eyes to check the time as well, frowning deeply when she noticed the time, “It has been a while…maybe we should check the train, just to be on the safe side.”

“I’ll help you two look for them,” Neville said helpfully; I smiled gratefully at him, patting his shoulder good-naturedly while Fred got to his feet, promising to help us look, too. George and Lee elected to say behind to watch our seats and be there just in case the two boys showed up. Promising to meet back at the compartment in another half hour, Neville and Hermione headed up toward the engine while Fred and I turned in the direction of the luggage car at the back. 

Each compartment we passed we checked inside, stopping in whenever we saw someone we knew to ask them if they’d seen Harry or Ron, but none of them had seen either hide nor hair of either boy. That little voice in the back of my mind began nagging at the back of my mind again, causing the bad feeling in my gut got stronger, prompting my anxiety to start building and by the time we reached the last compartment, my anxiety levels were practically through the roof and I was nearly hyperventilating. Fred actually had to have me sit down and put my head between my knees until I calmed down.

“I’m sure Harry and Ron are just fine, Chey, maybe they’re with Hermione and Neville back in the compartment.” He said softly, rubbing my back in soothing circles. “You really shouldn’t get yourself so worked up like this….I’ve heard it isn’t good for your health.”

I took a couple of deep breaths and the sighed softly, lifting my head when I was calm, “I know….I just can’t help it, after everything that’s happened, it kind of frayed my nerves….and whenever Harry and I are separated and something happens, if there’s something wrong with him, I always get this gut feeling and this little voice in the back of my head starts whispering to me, telling me something’s wrong….”

Fred was silent for a moment, absorbing this, before he allowed a low chuckle to resonate from deep in his throat, “You know, sometimes it’s truly terrifying just how close you and Harry are. Does Harry get this kind of feeling, too?”

I giggled and looked up a little, smiling lightly, “I don’t really know…I think he does, he doesn’t really tell me….I just kind of thought maybe he did…he usually seemed so wound up and worried about me if I was in danger while we were separated….but maybe I’m the only one….maybe I’m just a worrywart or maybe I’m a little too attached to my best friend….Harry’s just always been there for me, since before we even knew about where we came from, what we were…he’s helped me stay strong through all the years we’ve had to live with the Dursleys, even when I wanted to give up, even when I did give up. We’ve been through so much together….I just don’t want to lose him, you know?”

Fred smiled at me, nodding his head in understanding as he squeezed my shoulder, “It’s understandable, Chey, he’s your best friend and you just want to make sure he’ll be safe and sound, but you’ve got to look out for yourself, too, and you know Harry wouldn’t want you to get yourself all worked up over this. Now c’mon, why don’t we get back to the compartment. I’m sure Harry’s waiting for you.”

Nodding my agreement, I accepted Fred’s offered hand and got to my feet, following him back up the corridor toward our compartment. My gaze was on our conjoined hands, my mind drifting back toward where Harry could be if he wasn’t back with the others, my worry heavy in my chest, the little voice in my mind whispering that my best friend was in danger. It didn’t fully register in my mind that I was actually holding a boy’s hand, a boy that was NOT my best friend, until we’d crossed to the next car and my face immediately warmed in embarrassment. I gulped thickly and bit my bottom lip, my mind suddenly a jumble, my thoughts and words all a whirl of noise that made it hard for me to remember how to speak. 

“E-erm, uh, uh,” I managed to sputter out, catching Fred’s attention, making him cock his head curiously, an amused smile on his face, “Your…your hand, I-I’m, we….hands….” I glanced up at his dancing brown eyes and my face warmed further as my embarrassment deepened; I quickly dropped my eyes, nodding to our joined hands. He looked down and lifted our hands, looking surprised for a moment, from what I could see from under my bangs. “Our hands? Haven’t you ever held anyone’s but Harry’s before?”

I shook my head. 

A mischievous grin touched his lips, “Well then, maybe it’s about time you held someone else’s hand for a change. You don’t think Harry would get jealous, do you?”

I haven’t the faintest idea how my face could warm even more than it already had, but it managed and I got the feeling like my face was suddenly on fire, “I-I don’t….I don’t think so….” I mumbled shyly, glancing down again, making him chuckle, “Well than, I’d best enjoy this opportunity while I can.” He said, a gentle tone in the teasing tilt to his voice. “I’m sure Harry won’t say anything.”

I could only nod in reply as we continued through the train, my mind working a million miles an hour on the fact that I was actually holding my crush’s hand and he was actually allowing it. If this was a dream, nobody wake me up, please. 

Unfortunately for me, though, it did have to come to an end sooner or later. 

“Well well, look at what we have here, boys, a couple of lovebirds.” 

That annoyingly familiar, drawling voice behind us made me freeze and then sigh heavily; if there was really one thing I didn’t need to deal with right now, it was him. Fred pulled us to a stop and turned to face the speaker, his own body tensed as though in preparation for a fight while I glanced up, my gaze landing on the three boys that had come up on us. Two of them were larger, built with broad shoulders and thick frames like laborers, while the third standing between them was the one and only Draco Malfoy. I frowned at him, turning fully to face him without letting go of Fred’s hand. 

“What do you want, Malfoy?”

He sneered at the two of us, “Just wanted to know why Power’s here with one of you Weasels when her real boyfriend is having an adventure without her with his new sidekick.” He said, cocking his head. I furrowed my brows at him, ignoring the heat that had rushed back to my cheeks at the comment about Harry being my boyfriend, “What in the world are you talking about, Malfoy, have you lost your crazy pills because, you know, I don’t think you’re quite ready to be without them just yet.” I told him with mock sympathy in my voice. He narrowed his eyes at me, a knowing look in their depths that I did not like. “I guess Potter didn’t tell you his plans today, that’s pretty sad, I thought the two of you were supposed to be best friends.”

Anger curled in my belly at his tone and I clenched my free hand tightly, glaring at him, “We are best friends, we tell each other everything.”

“Then I guess Potter told you about his and Weasley’s plan to drive a flying car to the school instead of taking the train with the rest of us.”

My heart dropped into my stomach at this news, causing eyes to race through my veins as the voice began muttering away into my ear again, “Harry and Ron wouldn’t do something like that…”

“You think so, Power? Then what d’you call that?” he pointed to the window, which was showing us a picture of a neat little countryside whizzing by, farms and towns scattered among dense forests and mountains. Fred and I peered outside and immediately looked up toward the cyan sky, my heart falling further when I saw the unmistakable underside of Mr. Weasley’s old Ford Anglia dipping out from the clouds high above. The front of the car dipped forward slightly, likely so the boys could see the train and it was enough for me to spot that familiar black and orange hair, even from such a distance. After a moment or two the car rose back up and disappeared among the white fluffy clouds once more. I took a few shaky steps away from the window, unable to believe what I had just seen; why would, how could they-? Didn’t Ron and Harry understand how bad this was for them? If the Ministry found out about this, they could both be expelled from Hogwarts tonight! Malfoy, meanwhile, seemed to be enjoying seeing the anxiety and worry battling for dominance over my features. 

“I guess you and Potter aren’t as close as you thought you were, Power, huh?” He said boastingly, making my stomach clench and twist tightly as anger began to bubble alongside my anxiety, stretching my patience even thinner. “I mean, I thought maybe if you wanted so much attention, the two’ve you would’ve worked together to get it.” I tried to block out his bored, drawling voice, tried to will it away so I could get my temper under control, but with each word he uttered, it became a harder task to do. Merlin, why couldn’t he just shut up?! “But then, I guess you both thought maybe one of the Weasels would be good replacements for each other, I mean, look at you, you’ve abandoned Potter for his new sidekicks brother. It must’ve hurt him so to see you be with someone else, but then again, I’ve heard once you become famous, you just want to have it all, don’t you? You couldn’t just settle for a bigshot like Potter and decided to go out and get yourself a loser, too. Fame and glory really change people, don’t th –“

That thin thread of restraint keeping me from attacking Malfoy snapped and before Fred, Crabbe, or Goyle could stop me, I dropped Fred’s hand and launched myself at the blond; I landed a punch on him even before we got to the floor, where I pinned him beneath me by straddling his stomach and just started wailing on him. He yelled out in pain with each blow, calling for Crabbe and Goyle to help him. My fist was caught as I brought it back and I was yanked backward, thrown into the wall. I winced as my back hit, then squinted up through my lashes at Crabbe, who was readying himself to strike, his own fist raised in preparation. Fred caught Crabbe’s fist, squeezing it tightly until it was painful, glaring at him. Crabbe glared back at him through the pain until Fred shoved him backward toward Malfoy and Goyle, who was helping the former of the two to his feet, asking if he was okay. 

“Best get back to the hospital, Malfoy, the staff probably have your straight jacket and padded room ready,” Fred told him, glaring at the trio as they scurried away down the corridor before turning to me to offer a hand up, his brows furrowing worriedly, “Are you okay, Chey?” he asked softly, brushing a few strands of hair out of my face as he checked to make sure. I nodded my head, “Yeah, I’m fine, thanks for saving me from that blockhead.” I said with a grateful smile. His face smoothed out then and a brilliant smile took up the entirety of his features, “That was bloody brilliant, Chey! I mean, you really let Malfoy have it. I think that was the first time I’ve seen you go after someone like that.”

My cheeks warmed a little at his praise and I rubbed my neck shyly, avoiding his gaze, “I’m usually not so hot-tempered like that unless someone starts talking bad about someone I care about…and you know Malfoy usually grates on my nerves anyway…and with everything that’s happened today, my nerves are a little shot….I couldn’t take hearing Malfoy bad talk Harry for very long, no today.” 

Fred’s gaze softened a little and he nodded his head in understanding, “Well, he should back off for a bit now and let you enjoy the rest of the train ride. How about we head back to the others, I’m sure they’re probably wondering where we are by now.” He offered, nodding back toward our compartment. I nodded my head in agreement, looking forward to getting back and just relaxing. Although the idea of the two boys breaking the rules still didn’t settle well with me, I was at least somewhat relieved to know my best friend was all right and that he was alive. And yet everything that had gone on today had really seemed to drain all the energy straight out of me and right now all I really wanted to do was take a nap. Hopefully it would be enough to get me through the welcoming feast and speech once we got to Hogwarts.

My eyes trailed down to Fred’s hand as I began to think longingly of my warm four-poster up in Gryffindor tower before I realized what I was looking at and I wondered for a moment whether or not he would let me hold it again., bringing heat back to my cheeks at the very thought. Biting my bottom lip lightly as I weighed the pros and cons, I finally decided to just try and reached out, gently taking Fred’s hand in mine once more. He slowed, turning to look at me with quirked brows and I gave a shy smile, my cheeks warming further.

“Didn’t say I didn’t like it….” I mumbled, which caused a grin to cross his lips and a chuckle to bubble up out of him in reply. He gently squeezed my hand as we continued down the corridor without releasing me, though, causing my heart to flutter like a butterfly in my chest. It felt kind of surreal knowing I was holding my crush’s hand like this, but it was also quite nice….would this be what it would feel like if Fred was my boyfriend? The thought made me blush brightly and I quickly banished it out of my mind, telling myself that wouldn’t happen….Fred had been teasing me easier, been trying to make me feel better because I was worrying over my best friend….I’m sure he probably had a girl in his own year he fancied; I was likely just one of his little brothers dorky friends. 

“Chey, Fred,” Hermione’s voice broke through my thoughts and I quickly shook my head, realizing we’d reached our compartment. Fred gently pulled me into the seat next to him while Hermione frowned at us, her brows furrowed deeply over her big eyes, “Did either of you find Ron and Harry?”

Fred shook his head as I sighed and leaned tiredly against him, closing my eyes while he launched into what had happened, telling them about our run in with Malfoy and how he’d pointed out the two riding through the clouds in Mr. Weasley’s car. I was already beginning to drift off as Hermione began to scoff and go on a rant about how irresponsible those two were being, snuggling closer to Fred as I felt something warm wrap around my shoulders, pulling me further into him. My lips tugged upward at the corners as I gave a relaxed sigh, giving myself over to the warm, welcoming darkness. 

I was awoken a short time later by a gentle hand shaking my shoulder, Fred’s voice calling my name from somewhere distance I couldn’t quite place. I groaned softly as I slowly returns to consciousness, stretching my arms over my head and arching my back slightly as I sat up straight, rubbing the sleep from my eyes. My eyes fluttered open and I blinked them slowly, looking around the compartment in time to see the rest of my friends getting themselves dressed for the feast, minus, of course, Harry and Ron. The window was dark, the only sign of light coming from the twinkling stars overhead and the single lantern on the Hogsmeade platform, steam bellowing past the window as the floor lurched under our feet, the gears hissing as the wheels rolled to a halt. Before I could begin to panic over the continued disappearance of my best friends, Fred quickly handed me one of my robes.

“Quick, Chey, change into your robes. It’s almost time to get off.” He said, already slipping his robes over his head and straightening his hair back out with his fingers. I hurried to do as he said, discarding my sweatshirt for my robes and throwing it into my trunk just as the train came to a final halt with a low hiss. A mixture of voices flooded the corridor outside, people laughing and talking loudly amongst themselves as they pushed their way out onto the platform as the conductor informed us that our trunks and pets would be brought up to the school separately. Hermione opened the compartment door and led the way out into the milling crowd, Neville and Ginny behind her. George and Lee pushed their way out next, Fred taking my hand and leading me after them. We stepped out together onto the familiar dark, tiny Hogsmeade platform, where we were pushed this way and that as students milled about, trying to get out of the station. Behind us, the familiar sound of Hagrid calling for the first years sounded, followed by the familiar sight of the lantern bobbing just overhead. I turned to look before leaving the platform, raising a hand to the giant as Ginny hurried toward him. He nodded in my direction, ushering all the first years closer to lead them to the boats that would take them across the lake to the castle, boats Harry, Ron, Hermione, and I had taken just the previous year. The older students herded out the opposite side of the platform onto a wide dirt road just behind the station, where a long line of black carriages stood at the ready, each of them with enough space between them to allow a horse to pull them, although there were no steeds present, leading me to believe that perhaps the carriages had been enchanted to drive themselves. It didn’t really surprise me, considering all the things I’d already seen in the last year. It was still quite impressive, though. 

Lee and George found us a carriage toward the middle of the line and we climbed inside, even though there was a jumble of activity inside as everyone tried to figure out where they were going to sit. When the mayhem finally subsided, I somehow found myself seated snuggly between Fred and Neville on one side of the carriage, so close to both of them I actually could feel them breathing. My face immediately warmed at the knowledge that I was practically being squashed against my crush and I did my best to not think about it, fixing my gaze on the black wallpaper over Hermione’s head, letting my mind wander toward different things. My thoughts immediately fixated back on my earlier problem of what Harry and Ron were getting themselves into, driving Mr. Weasley’s flying car to school instead of taking the train like everyone else! I mean, what in the world were those two thinking, were they trying to get themselves expelled?! 

These thoughts carried me through the ride up to the castle, fully distracting me from my embarrassing thoughts as I cycled through these questions, trying to figure out why in the world the boys would do something like this. By the time we pulled up to the oak front door, my mind was a whirlwind of anxiety-driven questions; Fred actually had to help me out of the carriage and into the entrance hall, where he pulled me off to the side, squeezing my shoulder to get my attention. 

“Chey, are you thinking about Harry again?” he asked softly with furrowed brows while I blinked up at him, slow to process the question before it finally occurred to me. I tried to smile and wave it off, but the look he gave me made my excuses die on my tongue and I glanced away, sighing softly as I nodded. His hands squeezed his shoulders tighter, not enough to hurt, but to offer a gentle comfort. “Chey, I’m sure Harry and Ron are both okay, they’re probably landing out on the lawn as we speak and they’ll be joining us at the feast in a few minutes. Let’s just go upstairs and join the others to wait. They’ll be beginning, soon.”

I finally conceded with a sigh, nodding as I did. Fred seemed to relax his grip a bit, moving one hand to take mine, squeezing it softly, “C’mon, let’s get upstairs to join the others before they come looking for us. They’ll probably think we’ve been snogging or something.” He sniggered, leading the way up the marble staircase while heat rushed back to my cheeks and I had to fight the squeak threatening to escape my lips. I gulped and shuffled after him to the Great Hall, chewing my bottom lip shyly as I did. We got into the hall together and headed straight for the Gryffindor table, where our friends had claimed seats halfway down and were waiting for us to join them. I was seated between Fred and Hermione on the bench. Glancing up and down the table, I kept an eye out for either boy, hoping to spot them when they came in so it would give me some peace of mind to know they’d made it in one piece. 

And yet neither of them even showed; the hall filled around me with the rest of the students, all of them talking and joking as they seated themselves at their house tables and then it was time for the first years to be sorted. The only indication that Harry and Ron might’ve arrived was when Professor Snape, who had been missing from the staff table during the Sorting, came into the hall briefly to get Professor McGonagall, who left with him just as Professor Dumbledore stood to welcome everyone back from the break. He provided everyone with the usual rules and then introduced Gilderoy Lockheart as the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, which was met by loud squeals and cheers from a majority of the females in the school. He stood to bow to everyone, smiling widely, adorned in robes of aquamarine. Professor Dumbledore waited until everyone had calmed down once more before he finished his speech and allowed everyone to eat, the shining gold platters and plates before us filling with practically every kind of food. While Fred convinced me to eat something, even though my stomach felt like it was knotted up tighter than a pretzel, I noticed Dumbledore leave the hall after Professor McGonagall and Snape, something in my gut telling me it probably had to do with Harry and Ron. It knotted tighter in response and I clutched the table tighter, anxious to know what could be transpiring between them now, knowing it couldn’t be anything good for the boys. 

By the time Dumbledore returned with Snape in tow, I was feeling sick to my stomach and on the verge of another panic attack. Fred tried to console me, but nothing he said seemed to work, not this time….Knowing my best friend was so close and yet not within sight, without knowing his fate made me anxious and worried. Right now, I just wanted to know he was okay, I didn’t care about anything else. The rest of the feast seemed to drag on until it felt like an eternity before Dumbledore finally stood for the ending speech and we were dismissed for bed. Hermione, who had seemed a bit on edge throughout the feast herself, got to her feet, putting a hand on her shoulder. When Fred offered to help us, Hermione told him to just go on ahead with George and Lee and that we would see him up in the Gryffindor Tower once we found Harry and Ron. 

We separated from the trio at the top of the marble staircase and headed in the direction of Professor McGonagall’s office, hoping that Harry and Ron would be in there. There wasn’t anyone there, however and just as we were trying to decide where to go next, our Transfiguration teacher came up the corridor. 

“What in the world are the two of you doing here?” She asked with a frown, her eyebrows raising in question as she stared down at us, “You both should be headed for your common room, not traipsing around the castle.”

“I’m sorry Professor McGonagall, we were just looking for Harry and Ron. We were worried about them…they haven’t been -?” Hermione broke off, unable to finish her thought, just as scared as I was at the prospect of our best friends being expelled from school. Understanding touched Professor McGonagall’s eyes, although she still looked stern, as well as exasperated and tired, “Potter and Weasley haven’t been expelled, but they will be punished shortly. They were kept in Professor Snape’s office during the feast, but they should be headed for the Gryffindor Tower about now themselves. And you two should be headed there, too. Now, off you go.” 

Shooing us away from her office, Professor McGonagall watched Hermione and I head back down the corridor until we disappeared around the corner. As soon as we were out of her sight, the two of us took off for the Gryffindor Tower, our relief palpable, although it was tinged with worry about either boy being hurt. Our relief and worry only grew as we got closer to our common room and as soon as we climbed the last staircase and saw the two boys, tears blurred my vision, burning my cheeks when I saw my best friends’ standing there, a little shaken and worse for wear, but looking to be in one piece. 

“Harry! Ron!” I called, climbing the last few stairs and throwing my arms around Ron, then Harry, hugging him tightly, as though he would disappear if I didn’t. His arms wound around me, pulling me tight against him, rubbing my back soothingly and muttering softly that everything was all right as Ron asked Hermione what the password was, cutting her off before she could begin lecturing them about how dangerous and irresponsible when he saw the look on her face. Hermione sighed in exasperation.

“The password is ‘wattlebird,’ “ Hermione said in an impatient voice. “But that isn’t the point here –“

She was cut off as the portrait of the fat lady, an oil painting that protected the Gryffindor Tower, swung open to a storm of applause. Just inside, the whole of Gryffindor House stood around the circular room, some of them standing up on the lopsided tables and squashy armchairs, arching their necks just to catch a glimpse of the boys. Hands reached through the open portal to pull Harry and Ron inside, Hermione scrambling in behind us while I was pulled in with Harry before I could let go of him.   
That was absolutely brilliant!” Lee yelled, smiling widely at the two. “Completely inspired! That was an amazing entrance! Flying a car straight into the Whomping Willow, everyone’ll be talking about this for years to come –“

“You did well,” A fifth year neither Harry nor I had ever spoken to told him as I pulled away from him as much as I was able in the tight space. People were patting him on the back, congratulating him and Ron as though they’d just won a reward or done something heroic. Fred and George pushed their way through the crowd to our side and said together, “Why didn’t you tell us about this?”

Ron went scarlet in the face, grinning embarrassedly, although I could see one other person who wasn’t all too thrilled at what the two had done. Just visible over the heads of some excited first years, Percy was glaring at the two boys angrily, looking ready to tell them off as soon as he could reach them through the crowd. Harry seemed to notice Percy coming and nudged Ron, pointing his brother out; this was motive enough to get them moving toward the staircase leading to the boys’ dormitory. Just before they disappeared, they threw a goodnight over their shoulders to Hermione and I, the former of which had a scowl similar to the one on Percy’s face. She finally sighed, covering her face with one hand and shaking her head slowly. 

“Those two can be so reckless and irresponsible sometimes, I swear. What are we going to do with them?!” she groaned, glancing up at me through her fingers. I shook my head slowly in reply, shrugging, “I honestly have no idea….no idea at all…but I’m really just glad they’re both safe and in one piece.”

She was silent after that but I don’t think Hermione really had any objections to this.


	6. Gilderoy Lockhart

Things could’ve gone a lot better for Harry and Ron the following day, especially after breakfast. The four long house tables were already laden with tureens of porridge, plates of kippers, mountains of toast, and dishes of eggs and bacon by the time both boys came into the Great Hall, crossing the hall to join Hermione and I at the Gryffindor table, the enchanted ceiling overcast with dull gray fluff that I guessed had to be clouds; not really the best sign you looked for on your first day of school, was it? Hermione didn’t even look up from her copy of Voyages With Vampires, which was propped open against a milk jug, as the two joined us, just gave a slightly stiff greeting, indicating her continued displeasure with the duo over the stunt they’d pulled the day before. Neville, though, seemed to be in awe over what they’d done, greeted them cheerfully, grinning brightly at them; I had to stifle a giggle of amusement behind my goblet, smiling in greeting to my best friends.

“The mail sound be arriving any minute….Gran’ll be sending me a few things I forgot at home.”

Sure enough, the familiar rush of wings in the rafters overhead filled the hall, announcing the arrival of the hundreds of owls that swooped in to circle the hall and drop their letters or packages into the chatter crowd below. One package, a big, lumpy thing wrapped up in wrinkled brown paper, bounced off Neville’s head onto the table, followed immediately by a large, gray thing that fell into Hermione’s jug, spraying all of us with a mixture of milk and feathers.

“Errol!” Ron said in exasperation, pulling the bedraggled owl up by the feet. The unconscious owl slumped forward onto the table, his legs sticking straight up into the air while a damp red envelope hung in it’s beak.

“Oh, no –“ He breathed, his face paling immediately as he gulped thickly.

“Don’t worry, he’s still alive,” Hermione said as she prodded Errol gently with her finger, her brows furrowed deeply.

“No, that’s not it –“ Ron said, looking like he was about to faint as he carefully pulled the envelope from the owl’s beak, “i-it’s this!” He held the envelope up for the rest of us to see, making a few of us blink slowly in confusion. It didn’t look all that bad, it actually looked quite ordinary for a piece of wizard mail, although Ron and Neville were looking at it like they thought it was some kind of bomb set to go off at a second’s notice.

“What is it….?” I asked curiously, furrowing my own brows deeply.

“M-mum, she’s – she’s sent me a Howler,” He said in a hoarse voice.

“I’d open it if I were you Ron,” Neville said timidly, gulping thickly himself. “It’ll just be worse if you don’t. Gran sent me one last year and when I ignored it –“ He shuddered – “It was just terrible.”

I looked between the two boys closely, understanding dawning on me as I recognized the name of the piece of mail; a Howler was a letter with an enchantment on it that made it yell out it’s contents to the addressee like the person who’d written it. Oh boy, I really wouldn’t want to be in Ron’s place about now.

The five of us were staring at the letter pointedly, Ron and Neville with expressions of fear while Harry looked lost on what was going on and Hermione and I were frowning deeply; the letter was starting to smoke at the corners, curling quickly inward.

“Go on, Ron, open it,” Neville urged. “Like a band-aid, it’ll be over in a few minutes –“

Ron gulped thickly and then took a deep breath as he reached his other hand shakily toward the letter and slit it open. Neville stuffed his fingers into his ears while Hermione and I steeled ourselves; within the next second, the letter almost literally did explode in a roar of sound that echoed distinctly throughout the hall, shaking the ceiling hard enough to scatter dust from the rafters into the air.

“ – STOLE YOUR FATHER’S CAR, I’M SURPRISED YOU HADN’T BEEN EXPELLED FOR BEING SO IRRESPONSIBLE! JUST WAIT UNTIL I GET A HOLD OF YOU RONALD WEASLEY, THERE WILL BE SERIOUS CONSEQUANCES THE NEXT TIME I SEE YOU! I DON’T SUPPOSE YOU EVEN STOPPED TO THINK THE TROUBLE IT CAUSED YOUR FATHER AND I WHEN WE REALIZED THE CAR WAS GONE –“

Mrs. Weasley’s amplified voice echoed throughout the hall at deafening levels, rattling the plates and spoons on each of the five long tables. Everyone swiveled around in their chair to find the source of the noise, curious to see who had received the Howler; Ron slid slowly down in his chair until only his crimson forehead was visible, the Howler laying before him on his plate, bellowing out its contents.

“ – THOUGHT YOUR FATHER WOULD DIE OF SHAME WHEN WE RECEIVED THAT LETTER FROM DUMBLEDORE LAST NIGHT, THOUGHT WE RAISED YOU BETTER THAN THIS, NOT TO BEHAVE SO RECKLESSLY. WHAT IF YOU AND HARRY HAD DIED -?!”

I winched slightly at that, remembering my own fears of just such a thing happening when we couldn’t find either Harry nor Ron on the train, chewing my bottom lip slightly. I glanced down at my plate quietly, playing with my eggs as I tried my best to ignore the voice currently resounding throughout my skull and push my worries to the back of my mind.

“ – JUST ABSOLUTELY DISGUSTED – THANKS TO YOU, YOUR FATHER IS NOW FACING AN INQUIRY AT WORK AND I SWEAR IF YOU PUT EVEN A SINGLE TOE OUT OF LINE THIS YEAR, YOU WILL BE BROUGHT STRAIGHT HOME!”

Silence fell upon the hall as the note finished bellowing aloud its contents and burst into flames on the table where Ron had dropped it, curling into ashes. I slowly looked up then, straightening in my seat as Harry and Ron could only stare at the pile of ash with stunned looks on their faces, looking at a complete loss for what to do. Scattered laughter sounded throughout the hall before the usual babble of talk started up again. Hermione sighed softly as she closed Voyages with Vampires and turned to look down at the top of Ron’s head, currently the only part of the young man that was visible.

“Well, I honestly don’t know what you could’ve been expecting, Ron, but –“

“Don’t say it, Hermione.” Ron snapped, glaring at her as he slowly straightened up in his chair; Harry pushed his bowl of porridge away, looking ready to be sick. His eyebrows were knit guiltily over the bridge of his nose, his lips pressed into a thin line. I looked worriedly at him and reached across the table to rub his arm soothingly, knowing he must be feeling guilty about what had happened; an inquiry at the workplace was a big thing and after what Ron’s family had done for Harry and I this summer, to know he’d done something to cause such a thing had to make him feel like scum about now.

Thankfully for Harry, he didn’t have long to dwell on this, though, since Professor McGonagall was currently moving along the Gryffindor table, handing out everyone’s course schedules. Harry and I took each of ours, seeing we had double Herbology with the Hufflepuffs first thing after breakfast today.

Once it was time for class, Harry, Ron, Hermione, and I left the castle together to cross the vegetable patch to reach the greenhouses, where all the magical plants were housed. One good thing came out of the Howler that morning, though: Apparently appeased with the thought that the boys had been punished enough, she was now speaking warmly to them once more.

The rest of the class was already standing outside the greenhouses as we approached, waiting for Professor Sprout to join us and let us inside. She came striding into view just as we joined the others, accompanied by none other than Gilderoy Lockhart. Rolls of bandages were stacked in her arms, the Whomping Willow shaking it’s branches in the distance, several of which were now wrapped up in slings.

Our Herbology teacher was a squat witch who wore a patched hat over her wispy hair; her robes and fingernails were usually covered in a fine layer of dirt, something that would have given Aunt Petunia a heart attack the second she saw her. Compared to her, however, Gilderoy Lockhart was immaculate, dressed in sweeping robes of turquoise, his shining golden hair swept into a perfect do under his golden trimmed, turquoise hat.

“Why hello everyone!” he called as he noticed our class, beaming around at the assembled students. “I’ve just been showing Professor Sprout how to properly doctor a Whomping Willow! Now, I don’t want any of you running away with the idea that I’m more of an expert at Herbology than she is, I just so happened to have run into a few exotic plants on my travels….”

“We’ll be using greenhouse three today, chaps!” Professor Sprout said, her usually pep marred under a mask of irritation and disgruntlement.

A murmur of interest swept through our group, since it was well known that greenhouse three was what housed the far more interesting and dangerous plants we hadn’t been able to work with yet; up until now, we’d only been working in greenhouse one. Professor Sprout unhooked a large key from her belt and unlocked the door; the strong smell of damp earth and fertilizer mingled with the heavy perfume that came from the giant, umbrella-sized flowers that dangled from the ceiling wafted through the open door, buffeting our noses. Moving to follow Ron and Hermione inside, I stopped when I felt a hand clasp over my shoulder. I stopped, glancing over my shoulder and frowning when I saw the hand on my shoulder belonged to Gilderoy Lockhart.

“Harry, Cheyenne, I’ve been wanting a word with the two of you – Professor Sprout, you wouldn’t mind if they were a couple of minutes late, would you?”

The scowl Professor Sprout sent him told Harry and I that she did, in fact, mind it very much, but Lockhart just grinned in reply and closed the greenhouse door right in her face.

“Harry, Cheyenne,” he said, turning to the two of us now with a wide, white toothed smile, his teeth gleaming bright in the sunlight as he slowly shook his head back and forth, “Oh Harry, Cheyenne.”

Raising my eyebrows slowly, I frowned deeply in reply, crossing my arms tightly in front of my chest; suddenly realizing Lockhart was still grasping my shoulder tightly in his hand, I shrugged the offending appendage off and moved out of his reach, waiting impatiently for him to continue. I wanted so much just to go into the greenhouse and start my classwork. He honestly couldn’t be conceded enough to think our schoolwork in other classes wasn’t being effected just because he excused us, could he? But, then again, I was giving him a little too much credit…the man was thicker than an old school tomb.

“When I heard of what Harry did, well, I could say I could be to blame for putting such ideas in his head. I could have just kicked myself.”

“Why didn’t you…?” I muttered, frowning deeply at him while Harry raised his eyebrows quizzically, wondering what in the world Lockhart was talking about. Neither of us were entirely sure what this idiot was going on about, but, knowing him from the few interactions we’d had with him so far, he would likely explain with very little prompting. Within seconds, the brainless idiot did just that.

“But honestly, I don’t think I’d ever been quite as shocked about anything in my entire life than when I heard that Harry actually flew a car to Hogwarts! But then, it was quite easy to figure out why he would do such a thing in the first place, it could be seen a mile away. Oh Harry,” He sighed dramatically, placing his hands on Harry’s shoulders and shaking his head slowly, “Harry, Harry, Harry.”

How could such a man be so pompous and vein at the exact same time…? Honestly, just listening to Lockhart was giving me a migraine as he gave us both the mental run around. Not everything revolved around him!

“You got a taste of publicity that day in Flourish and Blotts, didn’t you? Made you crave more,” Lockhart laughed, grinning, “I made Harry catch the bug. Both of you got onto the front page of the paper with me that one time and now Harry can’t quite get enough of it, can he?”

Was he serious? Was this guy really serious? I mean, really?!

I internally cringed as Lockhart suddenly grinned my way, feeling my stomach turn as a bad feeling slithered it’s way down my spine at the mental image of the cogs turning in that pretty little blond head of his.

“Being at such a particular age, too, you start wanting to impress girls and make them notice you, it’s understandable, really it is.” He laughed while I narrowed my eyes and clenched my fists tightly. “It’s just a normal part of growing up, noticing the opposite gender, wanting to show off for them, impress them, even if they’re as close to you as Cheyenne is to you, Harry.” He switched his twinkling gaze to my best friend, who was looking completely lost and confused by all this, “I will say, I’m rooting for you, Harry, I hope things will work out for you and Cheyenne in the future.”

Heat rose in my cheeks almost immediately in realization and I looked at my best friend with wide eyes, silently begging him to make this idiot just STOP talking! Harry avoided my eye, however, his face reddening rapidly as he looked at anything besides my or Lockhart’s faces, mentally trying to distance himself from the conversation as best as he was able, which I couldn’t entirely blame him for…gods, this was as embarrassing as that talk I had with Mrs. Weasley over the summer about the changes my body was going to go through as I got older. This conversation just needed to stop!

Turning quickly to Lockhart and doing my best to fight off my embarrassment, I hoped my mouth to protest, “Professor, please, that isn’t what all this is about, it’s just –“

“Cheyenne, please, there’s no need to explain Harry’s actions away.” Lockhart cut in obnoxiously patting my head, giving me the distant feeling of being treated like a child trying to figure out what the adults were talking about. I had to fight off the irritation bubbling up in the pit of my stomach and just glared at him instead of snapping at his hand like I so wanted to, “I completely understand where he’s coming from, it is completely natural for him to want a bit more once he’s had that little taste of fame – I still completely blame myself for allowing him such a thing, though, I should’ve known it would’ve gone straight to his head – but, Harry, you have to understand that you can’t go about doing such foolish things as actually flying cars to get yourself noticed. There is still plenty of time for you and Cheyenne to get noticed, possibly when you’re both older, so try and calm yourself a little, all right? You shouldn’t be comparing yourself to an internationally famous wizard like myself, because, you know, when I was twelve-years-old, I was just a nobody like yourselves, well…actually, more of a nobody, considering there are very few people who actually know who the two of you are. You two were the ones who defeated You-Know-Who as infants, after all, weren’t you?!” he exclaimed with a brilliant smile as his gaze swept over both my and Harry’s foreheads, seeking the identical lightning shaped scars permanently etched into our skin. “That is quite the achievement, although it probably isn’t as satisfying as winning Witch Weekly’s Most-Charming-Smile Award five times in a row, like myself, but it is still something to be proud of. That is where the two of you can start. It’s your start.”

Giving Harry’s shoulders a tight squeeze and throwing a hearty wink in my direction, Lockhart turned and strode off toward the castle, leaving the two of us equally embarrassed and irritated in his wake. Shaking my head slowly and rubbing slowly at my eyes under my glasses as I fought against the headache throbbing at the base of my skull, I turned and headed toward the greenhouse door, not wanting to be kept from the lesson any longer than necessary, only pausing long enough to make sure Harry was following right after before we both slipped inside without a word.

In the center of the greenhouse, Professor Sprout stood before a trestle bench, where twenty-one pairs of multi-colored ear-muffs lay before her as she went about putting the finishing touches on her lesson for the day. By the time Harry and I took our seats between Ron and Hermione, she finished putting everything in place and turned to address the class, clearing her throat loudly to catch everyone’s attention, “All right everyone, today we will be repotting Mandrakes. Can any of you tell me the properties of the Mandrake?”

My and Hermione’s hands were the only ones in the air while the rest of the students around us looked at each other quizzically, Harry and Ron exchanging confused looks. Professor Sprout pointed to me.

“Mandrakes, also named Mandragora, are powerful restoratives,” I said, allowing my hand to return to my side, the passage I’d read about the Mandrake whizzing through my mind like a movie. “They can be used by anyone cursed or transfigured to help return them to their original state.”

“Excellent, Miss Power, you get ten points for Gryffindor House,” Professor Sprout said with a nod. “The Mandrake is a very important ingredient in most antidotes, however, it can still be considered dangerous. Does anyone know why that is?”

Hermione’s hand immediately shot back into the air while Harry stumbled a few feet back, having narrowly avoided being smacked in the face with it.

“A Mandrake’s cry is considered fatal to anyone who hears it,” she recited promptly once she was called upon.

“Exactly right, another ten points for Gryffindor,” Professor Sprout said proudly. “For our lesson today, though, we will be working with young seedlings, whose cries are not yet as deadly as a full grown Mandrake, but will still knock you out for several hours, which is why each of you will be required to wear a pair of earmuffs so you won’t miss your first day back at school. The Mandrakes we will be working with today are right over there.

She pointed to the row of deep trays beside her, moving back so the rest of us could shuffle closer for a better look; set out into long, wide rows were hundreds of tufty little purplish green plants. To Muggles and anyone not familiar with magical plants, they looked entirely unremarkable and could be mistaken for an ordinary plant.

“All right, now, I want all of you to take a pair of earmuffs,” Professor Sprout instructed, indicating the pairs spread out before her; everyone scrambled to grab a pair that wasn’t pink and fluffy. I managed to seize a red pair, my favorite color.

“When told to put your pair on, please be sure that your ears are completely covered,” Professor Sprout instructed, picking up the pink pair. “I’ll give you all a thumbs-up when it’s safe to remove them again, understood? Right – earmuffs on.”

I slipped my pair on over my ears, amazed at how well them blocked out any kind of noise, practically blocking out the rest of the world around me. Professor Sprout slipped her pair on, too, rolled up her sleeves, and grasped the nearest tufty plant, giving it a hard pull.

Rather than revealing simple roots, a small, muddy, and extremely ugly baby was yanked from the earth, the tufty purplish green leaves growing straight out of it’s otherwise smooth head. The infant was a pale green in color with mottled skin, it’s mouth parted in a loud, lung-busting, unheard cry.

Producing a large plant pot from underneath the table, Professor Sprout plunged the Mandrake inside, making sure it was completely buried in the fresh dark, damp compost until only it’s tufted leaves were visible. Once she was finished, she dusted her hands off, gave us all a thumbs-up, and then removed her own earmuffs.

“During this lesson, I want you all to be sure that you keep your earmuffs securely in place just as you did when I demonstrated, we can’t have anyone passing out on the very first day. When it’s time to pack up, I will be sure to signal all of you.”

“There is to be four to a tray, you can find a large supple of pots over here, your compost in those sacks over there, and everyone, please be careful of the Venemous Tentacula, it’s teething.”

Each of us nodded and froze when we saw a couple of long, spiky dark red feelers inching sneakily up over her shoulder; she didn’t even look up as she slapped them sharply with one hand, making them retreat back toward the plant they had come from.

Harry, Ron, Hermione, and I took up a tray together, although one of our neighbors, a cute curly-haired Hufflepuff boy we often passed in the corridors but hadn’t gotten the chance to talk to as of yet, was friendly enough to say hello and introduce himself.

“I’m Justin Finch-Fletchley,” he said brightly as he shook each of our hands, “And I know who each of you are, too, naturally. The infamous P-Team, Harry Potter and Cheyenne Power….” He grinned at Harry and I, both of us looking at one another and scratching the back of our necks shyly, “And you’re Hermione Granger, one of the top students here at Hogwarts.” Hermione beamed excitedly when Justin excitedly shook her hand, too. “And you’re Ron Weasley,” he said, turning to Ron now, still grinning, “You’re the one with the flying car, aren’t you?”

Ron scowled deeply, looking a little pale, his mother’s howler obviously still on his mind.

“That Lockhart chap’s really something, isn’t he?” Justin continued as all of us were filling our plant pots with the dragon dung compost; Harry and I glanced at each other again and groaned lowly, looking away again as the color returned to our cheeks out of embarrassment, remembering that idiotic speech he’d given us earlier. “He’s an awfully brave wizard, isnt he? Have either of you read his books?” I did and I can honestly say, after meeting the author, that I’m actually kind of shocked...I mean, the books were excellent but they were vastly different from the man who wrote them… “If I’d’ve been in his place when he was cornered in that telephone booth by a werewolf, I probably would’ve died of fright! But then, Lockhart kept a level head and he did a simple spell and took care of it, just like that! It’s just fantastic!

“You know, my name was down for Eton school, but I’m real glad I got to come to Hogwarts instead, even if mum was a little disappointed. But, then, once she read one of Lockhart’s books, she came around and decided having a fully trained wizard in the family wouldn’t be so bad.”

We weren’t really able to have much in the way of conversation after that, what with our earmuffs secured back over our ears as we turned our attention to the Mandrakes. Despite how easy Professor Sprout had made it look in her demonstration, actually applying the technique to our lesson was more difficult than previously thought. For one thing, whether it was coming in or out of the earth, the Mandrakes did NOT enjoy it. They fought against each of us every step of the way, squirming, kicking, flailing their sharp edged little fists and gnashing their teeth nastily; I even had to spend ten minutes helping Harry attempt to squish a particularly plump Mandrake into one pot.

By the end of our class, each of us were sweaty, achy, and coated with soil. We all traipsed back up to the castle for a quick clean up before us Gryffindors headed off for our Transfiguration classroom.

Our classes with Professor McGonagall were always hard work, but our lesson today would be particularly difficult, at least, for most of us. During summer break, without any mental exercise except for the bit of homework she’d given us at the end of the previous year, it was sometimes easy to forget the lessons we’d learned before. Today, we were each given a beetle, which we were supposed to be turning into a button. Hermione and I had an easier time than the others, particularly Harry and Ron.

In Harry’s case, the only thing he really managed to do was give his beetle a whole lot of exercise as it scuttled from one end of his desk to the other in an effort to avoid his wand. The only one having worse luck than him was Ron.

Apparently, during their crash out on the front lawn, Ron had tried to stop the vehicle with his wand, but had only ended up snapping it instead. That morning, he had attempted to fix it with some borrowed Spellotape, but, apparently, the wand was way beyond repair. Even when it wasn’t being used, it kept crackling and sparking at the oddest of moments, especially when it was stowed away in Ron’s backpack and it only seemed to act worse when Ron tried to use it; every time he attempted to transfigure his beetle, the wand would engulf him in a thick gray smoke that smelled strongly of rotten eggs. Without being able to see what he was doing, Ron accidentally squashed his beetle with his elbow and was forced to ask for a new one, much to Professor McGonagall’s displeasure.

The lunch bell couldn’t come soon enough for either young man that day; even just getting through the lesson was tough enough for the two of them, leaving them both looking tired and wrung out like freshly laundered clothes ready to be hung on the clothes line.

While the rest of the class filed out of the classroom, I stayed behind with Harry to watch Ron whack his wand furiously on the desk while it admitted several bright sparks and flashes.

“This stupid – useless – piece – of – crude –“

“Why don’t you just write home for another one?” Harry suggested while a volley of bangs sounding similar to that of a firecracker emitted from the wand.

“Yeah and risk getting another Howler in return?” Ron muttered sarcastically as he roughly stuffed the hissing wand back into his bag before hoisting it over his shoulder. “ ‘It’s your own fault that your wand snapped on you –‘ “

We headed down to the Great Hall for lunch together, where Ron’s mood only worsened as Hermione was showing off the handful of perfect little round coat buttons she had produced throughout our Transfiguration lesson.

“Erm, so, what’re our lessons this afternoon?” Harry asked quickly as he glanced in my direction, both of us silently agreeing that it was best if the subject was changed before Ron blew up on Hermione, the later of whom fished her schedule out of her backpack to check.

“We’ve got Defense Against the Dark Arts,” She said almost immediately, making Ron lean over to peer at the paper in her hand with a scowl.

“Hermoine!” He growled, snatching the schedule from her hands, “Why, in the name of Merlin, have you outlined all of Lockhart’s lessons with little hearts?”

Hermione’s cheeks flushed red with embarrassment as she snatched the schedule back from him and stuffed it back into her bag without a word, avoiding each of our eyes.

When we finished our lunch, we headed outside into the courtyard, the sky overhead made up of a heavy gray cloud ceiling, the air thick with the smell of rainwater as a cool breeze swept it’s way through. Hermione perched herself on one of the stone benches that dotted the open grass here and there, her nose buried between the pages of Voyages with Vampires once more while I sat under a tree beside her, half listening to Harry and Ron talk about Quidditch as I stared into space, thinking about the homework we’d already been assigned from our teachers that day. It was a few minutes, though, before I got the distinct feeling that I was being watched and I sat up straight, glancing around warily, my brows furrowing slightly.

Just off to the right, standing transfixed in one of the courtyard entrances, was a very small, mousy-haired boy staring between Harry and I with wide, sparkling eyes; in his hands he clutched an ordinary Muggle camera as though it was his most treasured possession. We met gazes and I gave him a friendly smile, which caused a bright blush to rise on his cute little chubby face.

“You all right, Harry, Cheyenne?” He called in an enthusiastically breathless voice, taking a tentative step forward. “M-my name’s Colin Creevey, I-I’m a Gryffindor, too.” He reached up to rub the back of his neck nervously, “I – I was just wondering….well, erm….do the two’ve you think….could I have a picture?” He took up the camera around his neck, lifting it hopefully. Harry and I glanced at one another, our eyebrows raised slightly in surprise before we glanced back at Colin.

“You…want to take our picture? Why would you want something like that?” I asked him curiously, giving a half friendly smile.

“W-well….I promised my mother and father that I would take a picture of everything I saw while I was here at Hogwarts and I wanted a picture to let them know I’ve met you,” he replied in the same breathlessly eager voice, edging a little closer to us. “I’ve read so much about the two of you, heard everything that you’ve both done since you were little. You two survived You-Know-Who when you were only infants and made him disappear, and you’ve both still got your scars to prove it!” His eyes raked over both our hairlines to find them. I nervously looked down, letting my bangs fall in front of my face, effectively hiding my scar from view, sensing that such a move did little in ways of dampening the boy’s spirit. “I was even told by a boy in my dormitory that developing the film from my camera in a certain potion will make the pictures move!” He practically squealed with delight, taking in a deep, shuddering breath as I glanced up, feeling a little scared and yet intrigued by the enthusiasm rolling off the child in waves. “It really is amazing here, isn’t it? I hadn’t known anything about any of this until I got my letter from Hogwarts, I never knew all that odd stuff I was able to do was because I’m a wizard. You see, my dad’s a Muggle, he works as a milkman and he couldn’t really believe it, either, but he made me promise to take a ton of pictures so he could see what I did, what I learned, what was in the magical world. I think he’d like it if I had a picture of the two of you, too –“ He looked almost pleadingly at the two of us, widening his eyes almost like he wanted to give us the puppy dog look – “Maybe I could stand next to the two of you while your friend takes the picture, and then, maybe….the two of you could sign it, please….?”

“Signed photos?! The two of you are giving out signed photos, Powter?!”

I flinched at the irritatingly familiar, scathing voice that echoed loudly throughout the courtyard, drawing the attention of the other occupants, who all turned as Draco Malfoy appeared in the entrance behind Colin, still flanked by his usual bodyguards. I slowly turned to look at the small, pale young man, feeling a twinge of satisfaction at the sight of the black and blue bruise that decorated his right cheek and eye, indications of the blows I had managed to land on him the day before when he was too thick to know when to back off. Ron and Harry turned to look, their eyebrows raising when they noticed the bruises themselves, although I could see both of them looking amused by them as well, probably wondering who the brave kid could have been to nail Malfoy like that.

“Hey everybody, make a line!” Malfoy roared mockingly to the rest of the crowd, sneering in both my and Harry’s direction, dowsing my good mood as irritation was slowly working it’s way in, “Harry Potter and Cheyenne Power’re giving out signed photos here!”

“Uh oh, Malfoy, I think it’s time for another dosage of your pills, they seem to have worn off because I know you’re seeing things that aren’t really here,” I retorted, moving to stand as I crossed my arms over my chest, glaring at him pointedly while he scowled in my direction. Before I could open my mouth to speak again, however, Colin immediately piped up in our defense, telling Malfoy he was just jealous; I inwardly winced at the outburst and glanced down at the boy, wishing he’d just kept his mouth shut, seeing as how he wouldn’t be able to back up his own words since he was only about as thick as Crabbe’s neck altogether.

“Jealous?!” Malfoy laughed, lowering his voice a little since practically the entire courtyard was now listening in on our conversation. “What could I possibly be jealous of that concerns the Humpty-Dumpty twins here? I think its better to have my head in one piece instead of cracked like their’s are.” He sneered, grinning at the two of us mockingly while Crabbe and Goyle sniggered stupidly behind him. Ron glared at the blond angrily, narrowing his eyes.

“Why don’t you go eat slugs, Malfoy?” He growled out, which immediately made Crabbe stop laughing as he rubbed his knuckles threateningly while he eyed the ginger.

“I’d be careful if I were you, Weasley,” Malfoy taunted as he turned to Ron now, snickering haughtily. “You wouldn’t want to cause trouble and make your Mommy have to come and take you out of school.” He pitched his voice higher, trying to make it shriller than it already was. “’If you put even a single toe out of line this year, you will be brought straight home’ –“

A group of fifth-year Slytherins chortled nearby.

“Hey Powter, Weasley wants a signed photo, too,” Malfoy continued, turning back to Harry and I with mock sympathy in his voice. “It’d probably be worth a lot more than his entire house –“

Ron grabbed for his wand, ready to flatten Malfoy when Hermione snapped her book shut, frowning deeply as she did so, “Watch out!”

“Now what could be going on around here, I wonder?” Gildeory Lockhart’s voice rang out as he strode into view, his turquoise robes swirling around his legs as he approached, looking around at all of us with that same stupid, toothy smile on his face. “Who’s giving out signed photos now?”

Skirting backward quickly before he could see me, I hunched down next to Hermione as Harry tried to explain what was going on to the thick-headed blond, only to be interrupted as Lockhart flung his arm around his shoulders, crowing proudly, “Ah, I should have guessed it would be you Harry, we meet again, dear boy!”

Watching the color raise rapidly over my best friend’s cheeks, I was internally gratefully I’d thought to put some distance between Lockhart and myself before he’d noticed me, even as I felt a twinge of guilt worming it’s way into my gut for leaving Harry to deal with the humiliation on his own.

“Come along then, Mr. Creevey,” Lockhart said as he sent Colin a beaming smile, “Make it a triple portrait, make it even better, and than all three of us will sign it for you.”

Colin fumbled excitedly for his camera, only to pause as he lifted the lens to his eye and frown, “But wait, where’s Cheyenne?” He asked, confused, as he glanced around. Lockhart turned to look, too, and spotted me still crouched next to Hermione. “Ah, here she is, sneaky girl!” he laughed, grabbing my wrist and yanking me, hard, toward him. I crashed into him, his free arm coming around to trap me against his side just as he had Harry while he motioned for Colin to take the picture. The camera flashed brightly, blinding me temporarily as the bell sounded throughout the school, announcing the beginning of afternoon classes.

“All right everyone, off to class with all of you,” Lockhart told the crowd as he set off toward the castle with Harry and I still clasped tightly to his sides. I struggled against his hold, silently wishing I knew how to Appearate about now so I could just disappear right now.

“I’ll give the two of you a bit of good advice, Harry, Cheyenne,” Lockhart said in an irritatingly paternal tone as he steered the two of us through a side door into the class. “I was able to cover for the two of you back there with young Mr. Creevey – getting a photograph of me with the two of you will keep your classmates from thinking you’re both trying to set yourselves up so much….”

“P-Professor, please, w-w-we weren’t….w-we di-didn’t –“ I stuttered quickly in an effort to convince him that wasn’t what we were doing, although my words fell on deaf ears as Lockhart swept us down a corridor that was lined with staring students and then up a staircase to the next floor.

“But, let me tell you this: handing out signed photos at this stage of your careers is not a very smart move, as it could give others the impression that you both have rather inflated egos and we don’t want that, do we? There will, however, come a time when, just like myself, you’ll both need to keep a signed stack of photos handy no matter where the two of you go –“ he chuckled softly, giving the two of us another wide, toothy grin, “But I’m afraid today is just not that day, not yet anyway.”

Lockhart finally released the two of us as we reached his classroom, striding toward the front of the room as Harry and I yanked our robes straight once more and made a beeline for the desk at the very back of the class. We busied ourselves with pulling all our Lockhart books from both our bags, which she stacked in front of us to avoid having to look at their author.

It was then that the rest of our class filed into the room, chatting among themselves as Ron and Hermione took the seats on either side of Harry and I.

“Either of your faces could’ve been used to fry an egg!” Ron told us with a concerned frown as he sat down and started pulling out his books as well. “Both of you should pray Colin never meets Ginny or the two of you could have a Powter Team fan club.”

“Shhhhh, don’t say that in here!” I said quickly, slapping my hands over Ron’s mouth as I glanced over my shoulder to where Lockhart was writing on the blackboard, hoping he hadn’t heard that; the very last thing either Harry or I needed was for Lockhart to hear the phrase ‘Powter Team fan club.’

Ron pulled my hands from his face with a frown, although he just shook his head as he dropped my wrists and got himself settled into his seat with the rest of the class. Once everyone was settled, Lockhart cleared his throat to get everyone’s attention, silence immediately falling over the classroom. Reaching forward to pluck Neville’s copy of Travels with Trolls from his pile, he held it up so that his own portrait winked at all of us from the cover.

“Me,” He said proudly as he pointed at it and winked, too. “Gilderoy Lockhart, Order of Merlin, Third Class, Honorary member of the Dark Force Defense League, and five-time winner of Witch Weekly’s Most-Charming-Smile Award – but I won’t be getting into that today. It wasn’t my smile that got rid of the Bandon Banshee after all.”

He beamed around at everyone, as though expecting laughter; I leaned my chin in my palm, already wishing this lesson was over as a few of our classmates gave weak smiles in response to the joke.

“Well,” he continued after a few minutes, setting the copy down again and rubbing his hands together enthusiastically, “I see that all of you have bought a complete set of my books, very well done. I thought, perhaps, I’d start today’s lesson with a little pop quiz.” A few students groaned loudly. “Oh don’t worry everyone, it’s nothing to worry about, it’s just a way for me to check to see how well you’ve read my books, how much you’ve truly absorbed –“

He picked up a stack of papers and began to hand the out before he returned to the front of the class, “All right, now, you’ll have thirty minutes to finish, starting….now!”

Dipping my quill into my inkwell, I glanced down at the test and read the first question:

1) What is Gilderoy Lockhart’s favorite color?  
2) What if Gilderoy Lockhart’s secret ambition?  
3) What, in your opinion, is Gilderoy Lockhart’s greatest achievement to date?

My head fell forward to bang into the desk, irritation working it’s way through my at the questions; what kind of idiotic quiz was this?! All these questions were about Lockhart for Merlin’s sake! I looked at each question and sighed irritably, running my fingers through my hair when the last question asked Lockhart’s birthday and what his ideal gift would be. This was supposed to be Defense Against the Dark Arts, instead of focusing entirely on the man who wrote these stupid books, we should be focusing on the creatures he faces, the spells he’d learned and used to defend himself and get rid of those creatures causing mischief. Instead, I felt like I was answering a questionnaire for fan girls to find out who was Lockhart’s bigger fan or the quiz one would have to take to get into his fan club!

Sighing to myself, I decided just to grin and bare it as I started to answer the questions, not wanting to affect my grade point average on the very first day just because a quiz made me feel like an idiot.

When our half hour was up, Lockhart collected together all the papers and rifled through them before the entire class.

“My my, this is rather disappointing.” He sighed after a few silent moments, glancing up at everyone with a sad frown, “Only a few of you remembered my favorite color is lilac, just as I stated in Year with the Yeti. Some of you will need to reread Wanderings with Werewolves a bit more carefully next time, too, I clearly state in the twelfth chapter that my ideal birthday gift would be harmony between all people, magical and non-magical alike – though, I will say, I wouldn’t say no to a large bottle of Ogden’s Old Firewhisky, either!”

He chuckled heartily as he gave another wink; I groaned and shook my head, covering my face as Ron stared at our teacher with a great look of disbelief; at the front of the class Seamus Finnigan and Dean Thomas, two of Ron and Harry’s dormmates, were trying to hold in their laughter, shaking as they did. Hermione was one of the few students listening raptly to Lockhart as though he was god and she gave a great start when her name was mentioned.

“There are, however, a few students I am quite glad to say, were able to answer each question correctly. Miss Hermione Granger and Miss Cheyenne Power were the only ones to know my secret ambition is to rid the world of evil and then market my own line of hair-care products – very good girls! Both of you receive full marks. Where are Miss Granger and Miss Power?”

I dropped my head onto my desk while Hermione timidly raised her hand.

“Excellent!” Lockhart beamed at her, nodding, “Quite excellent, you and Miss Power, wherever she is –“ he swept his eyes over the class again and I covered my head with my arms, “ – each receive ten points for Gryffindor! Now, let’s move onto business.”

I glanced up through my arms as he bent down to retrieve something from behind his desk and straightened up with a large, covered cage in his hands.

“Now, I don’t want any of you to be alarmed, it is my job as your Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher to arm you against the foulest creatures known to wizardkind! In my class, you will find yourselves face your worst fears, but you should know no harm shall befall any of you so long as I am here. The one thing I ask is that you all remain calm.”

I lifted my head a little at these words despite myself, glancing around my pile of books for a better look at the cage in Lockhart’s hands as he set it down on his desk and then grabbed the cover. Dean and Seamus had finally managed to get their laughter under control as they leaned forward in their seats and Neville cowered back, his shaking obvious even from my seat so far in the back.

“I ask that none of you scream,” Lockhart continued in a low, dramatic voice, building the anxious anticipation already choking the room. “You might provoke them!”

Everyone drew in a deep breath as he whipped the cover off the cage. We all sighed lowly in disappoint while he just grinned broadly as though he’d just revealed something wonderful.

Whizzing about the tall cage were at least two dozen eight inch, electric blue Cornish pixies, chattering away in high, shrill voices as they twisted their pointed faces into mocking expressions at those closest to them and rattled the bars of their cage.

Seamus finally let out a snort of laughter at the sight of the destructive little creatures, a snort not even the clueless Lockhart could possibly mistake for a shriek of terror.

“Something wrong, Mr. Finnigan?” He asked, cocking his head slightly with his usual bright smile.

“Well, erm, it’s just – “ Seamus chuckled, covering his mouth and clearing his throat as he tried to get his laughter under control again, “ – well, Cornish pixies aren’t exactly….dangerous, are they?”

“Oh, I wouldn’t be so sure of that, young man!” Lockhart chuckled himself, wagging his finger at Seamus. “These little guys can be quiet the devilish blighters, they can!”

Well, judging by the faces they were making at the people in the front row and the way they were pulling at the bars, I had no doubt that they could be mischievous but, in all honesty, I had to say I agreed with Seamus….the pixies didn’t look all that dangerous. Sure they could play pranks on people and make a mess, but they couldn’t tear any of us apart like a werewolf could.

“All right, class,” Lockhart continued, beaming around at all of us. “The exercise I’m about to have you do is designed to see what you make of these pixies here. Good luck, everyone!” He said before he let them loose.

Chaos descended on the classroom as the pixies shot from the cage in every direction like little blue rockets. While two seized Neville by the ears and lifted him out of his seat, several shot straight through the window to freedom, showering all of us in the back row with broke glass. Those remaining proceeded to reek havoc on the classroom, trashing it even more effectively than a stampeding rhino. Ink was sprayed over the class while books and papers were shredded, pictures torn from their places on the walls, the trash thrown across the room from the overturned waste basket, joined by bags and books that weren’t tossed out the smashed window. The class ducked immediately under the desks while Neville swung from the iron chandelier.

“C’mon now, everyone, round them up, they are only pixies!” Lockhart called from his position by his desk as he rolled up his sleeves. Brandishing his wand, he cleared his throat and bellowed, “Peskipiksi Pesternomi!”

The spell had absolutely no affect on the pixies, who continued to trash the classroom, one of them seizing his wand and throwing it out the window with the rest of the things they’d tossed. Gulping thickly and suddenly looking a little less confident, Lockhart dove under his own desk, just narrowly avoiding getting squashed by Neville, who came crashing down to the floor with the chandelier.

The bell sounded out in the corridor and everyone made a mad dash for the door. In the lessening chaos that followed, Lockhart straightened himself up, catching sight of Harry, Ron, Hermione, and I just as we were reaching the door and made a beeline right for us. Seizing the door as he scooted around it, he smiled at the four of us, “Right, well, I’ll just ask the four of you to nip the rest of these pixies back into their cage, all right, thank you.” He said before he scurried out of sight, closing the door firmly behind him.

“What?! Did he -?” Ron roared incredulously, glaring at the door where Lockhart had disappeared before he turned to the rest of us, “Can you believe that blowhard?”

“I’m sure he just wants to give each of us some hands-on experience, that’s all,” Hermione said soothingly as she and I immobilized a couple of pixies closest to us using a clever Freezing Charm we had found in one of our books during the summer and stuffed them back into their cage.

“You call this HANDS-ON?” Harry hissed as he tried to seize the pixie that was dancing just out of his reach, it’s tongue out. “Hermione, that man has absolutely no idea what he’s doing –“

“That’s rubbish.” Hermione replied stubbornly, frowning at the two boys. “We’ve all read his books, just look at all the things he’s done, all the things he’s experienced –“

“Yeah? Well, after this, I’m starting to think Lockhart’s not telling the entire truth about the things he’s said he’s done.” I growled irritably, shaking my head in disbelief.


	7. Mudbloods and Murmurs

The rest of the week found Harry and I avoiding our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher at every single opportunity, ducking out of sight whenever we saw him in the corridors. Colin Creevey was even harder to shake off, however, since he seemed to have memorized both my and Harry’s schedule within the last couple of days. Nothing gave Colin a bigger thrill than to say, “All right, Harry, Cheyenne?” six to seven times a day and, in turn, hear, “Hello, Colin,” in return, apparently obvious to the exasperated tone to either our voices.

Hedwig, meanwhile, was still angry at Harry due to the rough ride she’d had to endure when the car crashed out on the front lawn and Ron’s wand continued to malfunction until it surpassed itself Friday morning; it shot out of Ron’s hand during our Charm’s lesson and hit tiny old Professor Flitwick squarely between the eyes, where a large, throbbing green boil appeared. So, with one thing after another, the weekend couldn’t come quickly enough for any of us. That Saturday, Harry, Ron, Hermione, and I planned on going down to visit Hagrid. Unfortunately for Harry and I, however, we would be awoken several hours earlier than we would have liked.

“What’s going on….?” I mumbled sleepily as I turned onto my side to face whoever had woken me up, squinting up at the blob of red and gold that stood in the part in the red velvet curtains of my four poster. Yawning, I reached for my glasses and wristwatch on the nightstand, pushing the frames up my nose and glancing at the face of the watch before flopping back down on my pillow and glancing up at the figure standing over me once more, “Katie…it’s five-thirty in the morning….on a Saturtday….”

Katie Bell, one of the Chasers on our team, yawned and rubbed tiredly at her eyes, looking just as grumpy and unwilling to wake up as I was, “Don’t blame me, Chey….” She grumbled. “It’s Oliver….he wants to get started on Quidditch practice early this session….”

“Couldn’t he have waited until after breakfast, at least…?” I sighed, sitting up and pushing the hangings of my four-poster back and sitting up, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. Katie shrugged, “Don’t ask me, it’s his stupid plans….just get dressed and come down to the Quidditch patch.”

“Fine….” I grumbled, throwing the covers off and swinging my legs over the edge of the bed while Katie shuffled out of the dormitory. I sighed to myself as I got to my feet, stretching my arms over my head in an effort to wake myself up more before I had to go, glancing toward one of the tall, thin windows surrounding the tower dormitory. The sky was a bright pink-and-gold combination, the sun peeking out over the eastern mountain through a thin gray mist. The air was alive with bird-song, which I was kind of surprised I was able to sleep through.

Mentally cursing Oliver and rubbing my arms in an effort to ward off the early morning chill, I rummaged through my trunk to find my Quidditch robes. When I was dressed and the area around my bed had been cleaned, I wrapped my cloak around myself for warmth, left a note for Hermione on her bedside table to let her know where I’d disappeared to and grabbed my Nimbus Two Thousand on my way out of the dormitory. The common room was completely deserted by the time I arrived, my tired eyes scanning the room quietly as I moved to lean back against the long, squishy couch facing the fireplace; a few coals were burning weakly within the grate from among the pile of blacken logs and dark gray ash that was left behind from the hearty fire from the night before. Wondering for a moment if I had enough to get another fire going while I waited for my best friend to join me, my thoughts were promptly interrupted by the sound of footsteps on the spiral staircase leading up to the boys’ dormitories. I turned my head in time to see Harry appear, pushing up from my spot against the back of the couch as I gave him a small smile before turning to follow him toward the portrait hole.

A loud clattering noise sounded from the staircase behind us just as we reached the entrance, making the two of us look back as Colin Creevey came dashing out toward us, his camera swinging dangerously around his neck as he clutched something in his hand.

“I thought I heard someone saying your name on the stairs just now, Harry! Look what I’ve got here, it’s so amazing! I’ve just developed it and wanted the two of you to be the first to see –“

Harry and I took a look at the photograph Colin brandished our way with amusement, each of us raising our eyebrows slightly as we did.

What looked to be a moving, black and white version of Lockhart looked to have a faltering grip on myself as he looked to be tugging on a familiar arm, which I soon recognized as Harry’s. A small smile tweaked at my lips at the sight of the struggle Lockhart seemed to have as Harry was fighting as hard as he could to prevent himself from being tugged into the frame while I fought to get free from Lockhart’s grasp myself. A look of pain almost marred the man’s face as it looked as though he was being tugged in two different directions thanks to the photographed Cheyenne and Harry. Finally unable to keep a grip on either party, I watched as Harry’s arm disappeared while I ran out of view, Lockhart slipping to his knees and panting breathlessly.

“Would the two of you sign it?’ Colin asked with a bright, eager smile.

“No!” Harry and I answered quickly, the two of us glancing around to be sure that the room was deserted as we first thought. I turned back to Colin quickly, smiling apologetically, “I’m sorry, Colin, but neither Harry nor I really have a lot of time, we have to hurry to Quidditch practice –“

Harry pushed the portrait hole open and stepped out, helping me out after him.

“Oh wow!’ Colin breathed behind us as we started to descend one of the many staircases. What sounded like feet scrambling followed after us, “Wait, I want to come, I’ve never really seen a Quidditch match before!”

Colin’s footsteps accompanied ours’, echoing loudly in the deserted corridors.

“It’s really just a practice….” Harry said, as a way to persuade Colin to go back to the common room. “And practice usually isn’t all that entertaining…I’m sure you’ll just be bored…” Colin didn’t seem to really hear this, however, as he continued to follow Harry and I through the castle, his eyes shining brightly as a smile split his lips.

“I heard the two of you were the youngest House players in just about a hundred years, weren’t you, Harry, Cheyenne? Huh, weren’t you?” Colin asked excitedly, matching our pace. “The two of you must really be brilliant! Since I came from a Muggle family, I’ve never flown before, is it difficult?” His eyes quickly found the broomsticks perched on our shoulders, which immediately made them widen and sparkle even brighter, “Oh wow, are those your brooms? Are they the best ones out there?!”

Harry and I glanced at one another in exasperation, sighing in unison, neither of us entirely sure how we would be able to get rid of Colin; he wasn’t necessarily a bad kid but….he did talk an awful lot and it did get on one’s nerves sometimes, especially so early in the morning when the two of us were still tired and trying to wake up. Colin just seemed to stick to the two of us like he was our shadow or something.

“I’ve heard some of the rules and stuff about Quidditch but I don’t really understand it all too much.” Colin panted breathlessly. “Is it true there are four balls in all and that two of them actually fly around on their own, trying to knock people off their brooms?”

“Yes, actually.” I told him with a small smile, knowing that it would help ease my headache a bit if I talked about something I enjoyed, even if it might be a bit difficult to properly explain. “Those balls are called Bludgers; each Quidditch team has a couple of players called Beaters, who carry around clubs to beat the Bludgers away from their team mates and toward the other team. The Beaters for the Gryffindor team are Fred and George Weasley.”

“What’s the last two balls for?” Colin asked, stumbling over a couple of steps he missed as he stared at Harry and I with an open-mouthed expression that reminded me strangely of a fish.

“Well, we have the Quaffle, which is the biggest ball, red in color, it’s what’s used to score the goals. We have three Chasers on the team that throw the Quaffle to one another to try and get it through the goal posts at either end of the pitch – the goal posts are these three long poles that end in hoops.”

“What about the fourth -?”

“ – the fourth ball is the Golden Snitch,” I told him dramatically, as though I was revealing something shocking in a fantasy story, “and it is the smallest, fastest ball out of all of them, making it the most difficult to catch. But that’s why Quidditch teams have Seekers and their Helpers, since they’re the ones who end the match when they catch the Snitch. And whichever Seeker/Helper duo catches the Snitch earns their team an extra hundred and fifty points.”

“And the two of you are the Gryffindor Seeker and Helper, aren’t you?” Colin asked with an awestruck expression on his face.

“Yes,” I said with a gentle smile as we left the castle and crossed the lawn toward the Quidditch patch; the heavy, dew drenched grass soaked into the material of my sneakers and the bottom of my robes, a loud squeaking noise echoing in the cool morning air. “There is the Keeper, though, who guards the goal posts. And that makes up a Quidditch team.”

Colin was positively beaming at this point as he pelted Harry and I with questions, which I answered as patiently as I was able as we continued across the sloping lawns toward the Quidditch patch; it wasn’t until we reached the changing rooms that we finally escaped Colin, who hurried off toward the stands, calling back to us that he would find himself a good seat.

Glancing at Harry with a small, amused smile, I followed him into the changing room, where the rest of the Gryffindor Quidditch team was already seated, almost all of them still half sleep and groggy from being woken so early in the morning. Oliver Wood, our Quidditch captain and Keeper, was the only one who looked fully awake. Wood was a tall, burly sixth year, with wide, manically gleaming eyes.

By one of the side walls, fourth year Alicia Spinnet sat, knocking off against the bricks; sitting beside her was Fred and George Weasley, both of whom were blinking their big, puffy eyes, their uncombed, tousled hair falling in front of their faces. The other two Chasers, Katie Bell and Angelina Johnson, sat opposite the trio, yawning widely into their hands.

“Ah, there you are, Harry, Cheyenne, what’s kept the two of you?” Wood greeted briskly, gesturing to the two of us to take a seat. “Now, before we head out onto the field, I’d like a quick talk with all of you to go over the brand new training program I’ve developed over the summer. I think this program is going to make all the difference this year…”

Wood held up a large diagram that was supposed to represent what a Quidditch field looked like from above; he had drawn many different lines, arrows, and crosses on the diagram in multi-colored ink. Taking out his wand, he tapped the board, causing the arrows and lines to start wiggling over the diagram like they were caterpillars. Wood immediately launched into a speech about his new tactics while the rest of us had no choice but to settle in to listen; I sighed and leaned against Harry, feeling my body sag warily; although the walk down had awoken me up a great deal, I was still really tired and sitting down, letting my body relax again was putting me in the mood to fall back to sleep. Wood’s long speech would not help matters, either.

A good twenty minutes went into the first board, but then we had to sit through a second and then a third. Harry and I leaned heavily against one another as Wood seemed to drone on endlessly. A loud smack suddenly rent the air, jolting all of us rudely back to consciousness and disturbing my fantasy of a nice, warm breakfast in the toasty warmth of the Great Hall.

“So, is this clear to everyone?” Wood asked everyone, obviously having just finished going over his last board. “Does anyone have any questions about this new training program?”

“Yeah, I have one.” George yawned, obviously having just been jolted awake again. “Why couldn’t you have just told all of us this yesterday, when we were awake?”

Wood scowled irritably at him.

‘Now I want all of you to listen carefully,” he said, glowering pointedly around at the rest of us now, “The Quidditch cup slipped through our fingers last year, even though we were easily the best team in the school. Unfortunately for us, though, due to circumstances beyond our control –“

Harry and I exchanged guilty glances and then looked away from one another without a word; my fists clenched in my lap and I sighed softly, feeling my heart twist in my chest. During last years’ final Quidditch match, Harry and I had been unconscious in the hospital wing, which meant Gryffindor had been without either their Seeker or Helper/back-up Seeker and had had to suffer their worst defeat in three hundred years.

Wood paused long enough to recollect himself, taking a deep breath; it was clear last year’s defeat still deeply upset him.

“Due to this, we are going to train harder this year than we ever have before….Now, let’s head out onto the field and put these new theories into practice!” Wood said enthusiastically, seizing his broomstick and marching out of the locker room; the rest of us looked at one another tiredly and got to our legs stiffly before shuffling after our captain into the early morning light.

The sun had cleared the horizon by the time we stepped outside once more; my eyes narrowed against the bright light and I lifted a hand to shield my eyes. A thin mist still hung low over the short grass, although it was slowly dissipating with the growing light. Blinking quickly to adjust my eyes to the light, I lifted my eyes to the stands to find where Colin would’ve sat himself, spotting Ron and Hermione sitting across from the field from the locker room entrance.

“Aren’t you guys finished yet?” Ron called out to us in an incredulous voice.

“No….we haven’t even started yet…” I sighed, glancing enviously at the small pile of toast and marmalade the two were sharing, my stomach growling loudly in the quiet stadium.

“Wood’s just been telling us about some new moves he wants us to practice.” Harry continued, also eyeing the food the two had brought out from the Great Hall.

The two of them each gave an exasperated sigh while Harry and I mounted our brooms and kicked off from the ground; the wind rushed through my hair and clothes, my heart soaring as we did, a pleasurable rush of adrenaline surging through my veins. A cool wind buffeted my face, pulling me more effectively out of my drowsy state than Oliver’s long speech had. I’d missed being able to fly like this, soaring over the Quidditch field with my team once again. I took in a deep breath, letting it flow through my body, sooth my anxiety and frustrations away. Harry soared away from me, racing Fred and George around the field as I watched, smiling to myself.

Suddenly a loud clicking noise echoed throughout the quiet stadium, thrumming in my ears, sounding strange compared to the usual loud roar of the crowds, the cheers of our houses encouraging us to fly higher, faster, to win. The trio racing around the stadium slowed down, turning to search the stands for the source of the noise.

Sitting in one of the highest rows of seats was Colin, his camera raised to his eyes as he took picture after picture of all of us flying over the field.

“Harry, Cheyenne! Look this way!” he cried shrilly, waving his hand in the air in an attempt to catch our attention.

“Who’s that?” Fred asked as he came to a stop in midair beside me. I jumped a little in surprise, having not expected him to come this way just to ask such a thing. I turned to look at him, fighting the blush threatening to rise in my cheeks. Clearing my throat, I turned to look in the stands again.

“He’s named Colin Creevey, he’s a first year.” I said, watching Harry speed away with George to get as far from Colin as he possible could.

“What’s going on here?” Wood said as he skimmed toward us, frowning in Colin’s direction with furrowed brows. “Why is there a first year here taking pictures? It doesn’t look very good, especially if he’s a Slytherin spy trying to find out our new training program.”

“No Oliver, he’s harmless.” I said in an effort to pacify him, “Colin’s a Gryffindor….and a bit of a fan my and Harry’s.” I said with a small, sheepish smile, scratching one of my cheeks. “You’ve seen him before, haven’t you, Fred? Remember that commotion in the courtyard the other day with Harry and I? Colin was there.”

“You mean the little first year that made someone think you two were handing out autographs?” Fred asked as he looked at me, furrowing his brows, a cute crease appearing over the bridge of his nose. I nodded in confirmation, trying not to allow my thoughts to distract me now.

“Besides that, I really don’t think Slytherin needs a spy, Oliver.” George said as he and Harry zoomed over to join us.

“What would make you think that?” Wood asked, whirling on him now with narrowed eyes.

“Probably because they’re here in person,” George said as he pointed toward the entrance into the field. I followed the line of his finger, frowning deeply as I spotted the several figures dressed in green robes crossing the grass, already holding their broomsticks in their hands.

“What in the world?” Wood hissed between clenched teeth. “I already booked the field for today, they can’t just come barging in on us. I’ll have to see about this!”

With that, Wood turned his broom about and raced over to land before the group, staggering a little as he landed harder than he probably meant to due to his anger. I followed Harry, Fred, and George after him.

“Flint!” Wood bellowed as he marched toward the Slytherin Captain, Marcus Flint, glaring at the larger teen. “You can’t be here, this is OUR practice time, not yours! I booked this field and got my team up specially, so clear out!”

Flint grinned cockily at Wood, quirking a thin brow, adding a disturbingly troll-like cunning to his features that sent a cold shiver down my spine as he replied, “I’m sure there’s plenty of room for all of us on this field, Wood.”

The sound of robes whipping in the wind grew closer, indicating Angelina, Alicia, and Katie had joined us to see what was happening. I scanned the Slytherin team, not seeing one female member amongst the burly boys that stood shoulder to shoulder facing us, each of them leering gleefully at our discomfort and anger.

“But I specially booked the field!” Wood growled angrily, practically spitting in his rage. “I booked it!”

“Ah,” Flint hummed, looking mockingly thoughtful for a moment. “Well, you see, I have a specially signed note here from Professor Snape that says our team can use this field, too.” He pulled a note out of an inner pocket of his Quidditch robes, unfolding it slowly just to annoy Wood further, clearing his throat pointedly, “’I, Professor S. Snape, give the Slytherin team permission to use the Quidditch field to practice in order to train their new Seeker.’”

“Your team has a new Seeker?” Wood asked, distracted by this news. “Who is it?”

The six larger figures parted to reveal the seventh smallest figure behind them, a familiar small pale figure with an arrogant smile spread across his thin, pointed face. My eyes narrowed as I glared at Malfoy irritably.

“Hey, aren’t you Lucius Malfoy’s son?” Fred asked with a frown, eying the young blond disdainfully as he smirked haughtily back at him.

“Ah, it’s funny you should bring up Draco’s father, actually,” Flint said with a broadening grin that seemed irritatingly contagious among the rest of the Slytherin team. “I think you Gryffindors might just be impressed by the generous gift Mr. Malfoy has made to our team.”

The seven of them held out their broomsticks proudly, showing off the smooth, brightly polished handles inscribed with the name Nimbus Two Thousand and One gleaming in golden lettering at the end of them. Everyone’s eyes widened in surprise and I could feel my stomach knot angrily at the realization of just how Malfoy had managed to wiggle his slimy way onto the Quidditch team.

“They’re the very lastest model, just came out last month,” Flint said mockingly, carefully dusting some dust from the end of his broom. “I do believe these outstrip the old Two Thousand brooms by a very considerable amount. As for any of the Cleansweeps –“ he shot Fred and George a nastily smile as they clutched their own Cleansweep Fives closer – “well, let’s just say they sweep the board with them.”

Lost for what to say, the Gryffindor team exchanged quiet glances, trying to kick start our minds to think of some sort of retort. Malfoy continued to grin broadly, his cold gray eyes reduced to mere slits now while Flint was looking off to the side with a somewhat amused expression.

“Looks like we have a field invasion.” He said casually.

I glanced over my shoulder to see what he was talking about, watching Ron and Hermione cross the grass to join us and find out what was going on. Both of them stopped dead in their tracks, however, when they spotted Malfoy standing among the rest of the Slytherin team, Ron narrowing his eyes as he eyed the silver and green Quidditch robes he adorned.

“What’s going on?” He asked Harry and I without taking his eyes off the blond, “And why is he wearing those robes? He isn’t -?”

“The new Slytherin Seeker? Why yes, Weasley, I am.” Malfoy told him smugly, chuckling at the shocked expression that spread across Ron’s face. “We’ve all just been admiring the brooms my father bought for the team.”

Ron’s jaw fell at the sight of the seven superb broomsticks they held out, his eyes nearly popping out of their sockets.

“Wonderful, aren’t they?” Malfoy continued in a smooth, velvety voice. “hmm, maybe the Gryffindor team will be able to raise enough gold one day to buy themselves some new brooms as well. Raffling of those Cleansweep Fives ought to rack in some dough, especially if any museums decide to bid for them.”

The Slytherins all threw their heads back to howl with laughter; I clenched my fists in rage, feeling my temper boiling up quickly as my palm itched just to slap that damn cocky grin off Malfoy’s face.

“At least everyone on the Gryffindor team can say they got in based on their talent,” Hermione cut in sharply, glaring at Malfoy, looking ready to slap him herself, “instead of on how much money their parents have.”

The smug smile on Malfoy’s face slipped a little as he turned his scathing gaze on her.

“None of us asked your opinion,” he told her tautly, “you filthy little Mudblood.”

My broomstick fell instantly from my hand to clatter to the ground as that horrible word left Malfoy’s lips, shock and anger warring with one another inside of me that he would utter such a disgusting insult. Harry actually had to restrain me from jumping on Malfoy with Fred and George, who were immediately blocked by Flint to prevent any damage to their new Seeker, who I wanted more than anything just to stomp into the grass and hurt so bad he would have to be sent home to recover. Ron, meanwhile, had plunged his hand into his robes to pull out his wand, yelling, “You’ll regret ever saying that, Malfoy!” as he pointed it furiously at the boy from under Flint’s arm.

A loud bang ran out, echoing throughout the stadium as a jet of green light flew out of the opposite end of Ron’s wand, hitting him hard enough in the stomach that he was sent reeling backward onto the grass.

Quickly forgetting my anger, I squirmed out of Harry’s arms to hurry to Ron’s side while Hermione asked him if he was all right.

Sitting up slowly, Ron opened his mouth to reply, only for him to give a great belch and spew several slugs onto his lap. A few of the other girls jumped back, their faces scrunching in disgust.

The Slytherin team, meanwhile, was completely paralyzed with laughter; Flint was laughing hard enough that he had to use his new broomstick for support while Malfoy was knelling on all fours, banging his fist against the ground. The other Gryffindors gathered around us, watching Ron continually belch up large, glistening slugs, scaring Alicia, Angelina, and Katie back while the rest of the team didn’t look to want to touch him.

“We should take him to Hagrid,” I said to Harry and Hermione, both of whom nodded bravely. “It’s closest. He should know what to do.” I watched as the two of them pulled Ron up by his arms, hurriedly grabbing my and Harry’s broomsticks as we started out of the field.

“Hey Harry, Cheyenne, what happened to him? Is he okay? Is he ill? Both of you will be able to cure him, won’t you?” Colin asked as he danced around the four of us, having just run down from his seat to see what was going on. Ron suddenly gave a huge heave and dribbled more slugs down his front.

“Ooh!” Colin said with wide, fascinated eyes as he hurriedly raised his camera to get a picture, “Could you hold him still for me, Harry?”

“No Colin, we have to get Ron some help.” I said, gently pushing him out of the way so Harry and Hermione could support Ron out of the stadium and across the sloping lawns toward the edge of the forbidden forest. I hurried after them, feeling a little awkward running with two brooms in my hands, but ignored my own discomfort, wanting to know Ron would be all right.

“We’re almost there, Ron,” Hermione said consolingly as the gamekeeper’s cabin came into view in the distance. “Just one more minute, okay? Almost there –“

We were within twenty feet of Hagrid’s house when the door suddenly opened, although Hagrid was not the one who appeared. Gilderoy Lockhart came striding out, dressed in pale mauve robes.

Without thinking, I grabbed the back of Hermione and Ron’s robes, yanking them behind a nearby bush with Harry’s help. Hermione reluctantly followed us behind the bush, peering out at our teacher quietly.

“It’s just a simple matter to handle so long as you know what you’re doing!’ Lockhart called back to Hagrid over his shoulder. “Now don’t be afraid to send me a note should you need any help and I could even give you a copy of my book; it’s such a surprise to know you haven’t already got one already, though – tonight I’ll even sign one and send it straight over. I hope you have a good day, Hagrid!” With that, he closed the door and strode away from the cabin back toward the castle.

Watching him go until he disappeared through the entrance, I motioned to Harry and the others that it was clear and moved out from behind the bush. Harry and Hermione supported Ron between them once more as they followed me toward the front door, which I pounded urgently with my fist.

Hagrid threw the door open, his eyebrows furrowed deeply, looking extremely disgruntled, although his expression quickly brightened when he saw the four of us standing on his front step.

“I was wonderin’ when the foura yeh would come ter see me – come on in – almost thought yeh were Professor Lockhart comin’ back –“

I stepped inside and moved out of the way so Harry and Hermione could support Ron over the threshold; Hagrid’s cabin consisted of only one room, with his enormous bed in one corner and his fireplace in the other, where a bright fire crackled merrily in the hearth. Hagrid listened as Harry hastily explained what had happened back on the Quidditch field while he and Hermione lowered Ron into a chair.

“Better ta get it out than keepin’ it in,” Hagrid told him cheerfully as he dropped a large copper basin in front of him, “Just get ‘em all out, Ron.”

“There’s probably nothing else for us to do except wait for it to stop.” Hermione said in an anxious voice as she sat beside Ron, who bent over the basin with a groan. “Even with a functioning wand, that curse is still difficult to work, but to try and use it with a broken wand…”

Hagrid bustled about the small kitchen making tea as his boardbound, Fang, lumbered over to Harry and slobbered all over his face.

“So, Hagrid, what was Lockhart here for?” I asked him curiously, helping take out cups and plates for everyone as I did, looking up at the giant curiously.

“The idiot was givin’ me advice about getting’ kelpies out of a well.” Hagrid growled as he pulled a half-plucked rooster off the table so that I could set the cups and saucers down alongside his teapot. “Hones’ly, I know how ta take care o’ stuff like t’at on meh own without anyone else’s ‘elp. And if t’at wasn’t enough, he jus’ came barging in here, braggin’ ‘bout some kinda banshee he got rid of, banished from some small villager er sumtin’ like t’at. If even one worda t’at was true, I’d eat my kettle.”

I looked curiously at Harry for a moment, more than a little surprised at this little change in his character, although neither of us could say we blamed him, either; it really wasn’t like Hagrid to criticize any Hogwarts’ teacher, not even new teachers, but we guessed even obnoxious behavior could get under our friend’s skin. Hermione, however, looked as though someone had just criticized the one she thought to be God.

“Hagrid, that’s a bit unfair, don’t you think?” She told him in a high-pitched voice despite her best efforts to keep it level, a hard edge in her tone as she frowned at him. “I mean, Professor Dumbledore wouldn’t’ve hired Professor Lockhart if he didn’t think he would be the best man for the job –“

“Lockhart was the on’y man for the job,” Hagrid said as he offered some treacle fudge while Ron coughed up more slugs, which hit the bottom of the basin loudly, causing an uncomfortable shudder to roll up my spine at the loud, squishy noise they made as they hit the copper. “And no, I ain’t exaggeratin’, I’m bein’ serious, he was the on’y one, on’y one who volunteered fer the job, anyway. It’s gettin’ more and more difficult ter find anyone fer the Dark Arts job. Cuz’a the rumor goin’ ‘round about the job bein’ jinxed, no ones too keen ter take it on. Can’t say I blame ‘em, though, no one’s lasted more t’an a year. But, anyway,” Hagrid shook his head with a sigh, nodding toward Ron’s hunched figure, “Who was Ron tryin’ ter use t’at curse on?”

“Malfoy,” Harry said with a frown, his brows furrowed deeply in confusion, “He said some kind of swear word or something, called Hermione something….everyone just kind of freaked out.”

“It was a very bad word,” Ron managed to get out in a hoarse voice, pulling himself up to lean his head against the tabletop weakly. I reached over to gently wipe some of the sweat from his pale brow, frowning worriedly, “Malfoy called Hermione….a Mudblood –“

Ron gave a great heave and had to dive out of sight again to release the new wave of slugs that filled his mouth into the basin. Outrage filled Hagrid’s features, turning his face red as he whirled to look at her.

“He didn’!” he growled lowly, his beard quivering. She frowned deeply in response, slowly tracing the lip of her teacup as she did.

“Yea, he didn’t…but what could it mean? I’ve never heard of such a word before, so I don’t –“

“Malfoy called Hermione the most insulting name known to our kind,” I growled out, clenching my teeth and hands angrily as Ron sat up, gasping for breath. “Mudblood is a name wizards use to put down those born to Muggle parents. It’s no secret that Malfoy and his family don’t like Muggle-borns, that they believe they’re better than everyone else.”

“Because they’re pure-blooded.” Ron sighed, clenching his eyes tightly as he took slow, deep breathes. He gave a small burp, catching the single slug that escaped his lips and throwing it into the basin with the others. “Unlike Malfoy, though, the rest of us know the blood we have doesn’t even really matter. I mean, look at Neville for god’s sake, he’s a pure-blooded wizard and he doesn’t even know how to stand up a cauldron correctly.”

“Asn’ besides, there ain’t a spell out there yet that our Hermione can’t handle.” Hagrid said proudly with a wide grin at Hermione as she turned a brilliant shade of magenta.

“It’s a very disgusting thing to call someone.” Ron continued, taking the handkerchief I offered to wipe his brow a little more thoroughly, his hand shaking profusely. “It’s basically calling someone dirty blooded, saying they have common blood, which is ridiculous. Most of us nowadays are half-blooded anyway; if wizards didn’t marry Muggles, we all would’ve died out a long time ago.”

He ducked out of sight as he retched into the basin once more.

“Well, I don’ blame yeh fer tryin’ ter put that curse on him, Ron,” Hagrid told him, speaking loudly to be heard over the sound of the slugs landing in the basin. “T’en again, it’s probably best t’at yer spell backfired. ‘Spect Lucius Malfoy probably would’ve come markin’ up ter the school if his son was cursed. Least yeh can say yeh’re not in trouble.”

“Yeah, Harry and Ron are already in enough trouble as is.” I said, watching with an amused smile as Harry attempted to chew through the treacle fudge, which had, apparently glued his mouth shut. “Although Ron definitely wasn’t the one who deserved to have to spend his Saturday morning puking up slugs.”

Hagrid shook his head with a small smile, although the his features morphed into a more serious expression as he eyed Harry and I thoughtfully, “ ‘Peakin’ o’ bein’ in trouble, Harry, Cheyenne, I have a bone I want ter pick with the twoa you. What’s t’is I’ve been hearin’ about the two of you givin’ out signed photos when I haven’t gotten one mehself!?”

Heat rose in my cheeks furiously and I grit my teeth as Harry forced his apart.

“Neither of us are giving out signed photos!” he replied hotly, growling angrily. “And I swear, if Lockhart’s the one spreading that around –“

A smile was twisting Hagrid’s lips despite his best efforts to fight it and a chuckle escaped him.

“Calm down, Harry, I was on’y jokin’,” he said as he pat Harry on the back, making him do a face plant into the table while I winced, slowly opening one eye to make sure he would be okay. “I knew ne’ther o’ yeh were really givin’ out autographs, the twoa yeh ain’t t’at conceded; I told Lockhart t’at, too, the twoa yeh are famous enough to where yeh don’t need ta keep impressin’ everyone, yeh’re both famous without even tryin’.”

“Probably didn’t like that too much, did he?” I said with a small chuckle as I stirred my tea and took a sip from it.

“Nah, I don’ think he did,” Hagrid chuckled in amusement, the skin around his eyes wrinkling as he smiled widely. “Probably didn’t like t’at I never read onea his books ne’ther, since he decided ter leave right after I told ‘im t’at. Ron, do yeh want treacle fudge?” he added to Ron as he reappeared over the table.

“No thank you,” Ron said in a weak voice, groaning softly as he leaned against the tabletop. “I don’t think it’s a good idea if I eat anything right now until this passes….”

“Oh, I wanted ter show all o’ yeh what I’ve been growin’,” Hagrid said excitedly after a few minutes as Harry, Hermione, and I finished the last of our tea. We looked at one another curiously before getting to our feet and following Hagrid back out of the hut.

Out behind Hagrid’s house was a small vegetable patch, where at least a dozen of the largest pumpkins any of us had ever seen were growing. Each were about the size of a large boulder.

“They’re growing well, ain’t they?” Hagrid said proudly, puffing out his chest; he almost reminded me of a farmer showing off his best pumpkins at a county fair. “They’re fer the Halloween feast….they should be fully ripe by then.”

“This is amazing, Hagrid.” I said, impressed as I knelled down for a closer look, carefully running my fingers over the plants. ‘Just what have you been feeding them to make them grow this big?”

Hagrid glanced over his shoulder anxiously, as though to be sure there wasn’t anyone around to overhear.

“Well, the thin’ is, I’ve bin givin’ ‘em…a little bit o’ help –“

Something caught the corner of my eye and I looked over my shoulder to see what it was, spotting Hagrid’s flowery pink umbrella leaning up against the back wall of his cabin. Harry and I had seen what Hagrid could do with that umbrella and knew it was his way of channeling his magical abilities; it seemed as though the giant had found a way to incorporate his broken wand into the handle of the umbrella to make it so, even though Hagrid was not supposed to use magic. Although he had never told us the reason before, we knew he had been expelled from Hogwarts during his third year and any time we ever tried to pry further, he would abruptly change the subject or otherwise ignore the matter completely until we changed the subject ourselves.

“You used an Engorgement charm on them, didn’t you?” Hermione asked, raising her eyebrows slightly as she gaze the giant a sidelong glance, looking torn between amused and disapproving. “Well, I must say it’s very well done, you’re doing well with them.”

“That’s what yer little sister said when I met ‘er yesterday.” Hagrid said as he looked at Ron, who was knelling by the small patch, still looking sickly, beads of sweat rolling down his face; he glanced sideways at Harry, a slow grin twisting his lips, “ ‘spect she was out lookin’ fer someone, probably knowin’ they hung out at meh house, even if she did try ter convince me she was jus’ chekcin’ out the grounds.” He winked playfully, chuckling. “Don’t ‘spect she’d mind a signed –“

“Shove it,” Harry growled irritably, narrowing his eyes while Hermione and I exchanged bemused glances, stifling giggles while Ron snorted in laughter, only for it to change into a cough as he spewed up a new wave of slugs.

“Watch it!” Hagrid thundered as he yanked Ron away from his precious crops.

My stomach decided then to announce it’s hunger, prompting me to pull the sleeve of my robes back in order to check my wristwatch. It was just about noon then and I glanced quietly at Harry, knowing neither of us had had anything to eat aside from Hagrid’s treacle fudge since dawn, which made me eager to get back up to the castle for lunch. Saying a quick good-bye to Hagrid, the four of us walked back up to the school, Ron caught between coughing and hiccupping now, although his curse had lessened to the degree that he only brought up a couple of small slugs in the process.

We were just stepping into the shade of the entrance hall when Professor McGonagall’s voice suddenly rang out, “There the two of you are, Potter, Weasley!” We turned to face her, watching as she walked toward us, frowning at all of us sternly. “I’ve scheduled both of your detentions for this evening.”

“What’ll we be doing, Professor?” Ron asked, suppressing the next burp threatening to escape his lips.

“You’ll be doing your detentions separately.” Professor McGonagall said, crossing her arms. “You, Mr. Weasley, will be spendig the evening with Mr. Filch in the trophy room, polishing the silver. You’ll only be allowed to us elbow grease, absolutely no magic.”

I felt a twinge of empathy for Ron, knowing Augus Filch, the school’s caretaker, was absolutely loathed by all the students in the school.

“As for you, Potter, you’ll be helping Professor Lockhart answer his fan mail this evening,” Professor McGonagall continued, looking at Harry sternly. Harry’s face immediately as my eyes widened empathically, knowing that was the worst punishment our teacher could ever bestow on either of us.

“Oh no, Professor, please, don’t make me do that. Can’t I go to the trophy room to polish the silver, too?” Harry begged desperately, looking as though his worst nightmare had come true.

“No you can not, Potter,” Professor McGonagall said, shaking her head and raising her eyebrows quizzically at him. “Professor Lockhart asked for you specifically. Both of you are to report to your detentions at eight o’clock sharp, understood?”

Harry and Ron both nodded solemnly and slouched into the Great Hall as soon as Professor McGonagall moved off. They plopped themselves down on the bench heavily, a deep state of gloom settling over them at the news. Hermione and I took seats across from them, Hermione wearing a look that said all too well that she thought they more than deserved their punishment for breaking school rules. I did my best to cheer both boys up by getting their minds off their situation, although neither of them seemed to want to budge as they picked sadly at their lunch.

“Filch’s going to have me in the trophy room all night….” Ron sighed heavily, “Can’t use any magic to help clean all those cups and there’s got to be at least a hundred of them…I’m horrible at Muggle cleaning.”

“I’d swap with you any day,” Harry sighed with very little drive to his voice. “Living with the Dursleys has given me tons of practice…having to answer Lockhart’s fan mail…that’s just going to be a nightmare…”

We spent the rest of our Saturday in Gryffindor Tower, trying to help the boys forget about their detentions that night, although neither seemed willing to forget as they moped in a corner for a majority of the afternoon. Neither of their moods improved by the time they had to leave for their detentions and they said a gloomy goodbye as they walked out through the portrait hole.

I watched them go with a deep set frown, furrowing my eyebrows quietly as I settled back into the couch with my book, although I couldn’t concentrate fully on what I was reading as I kept worrying over the two boys, hoping their detentions weren’t as bad as they’d thought they would be. I kept glancing anxiously up at the portrait hole every couple of minutes, listening to the ticking of the clock hung on the back wall.

“The portrait hole won’t open if you keep watching it like that, Chey,” Hermione said after about two hours, sighing as she closed her own book and got to her feet. “Besides, they were the ones who broke the rules, they need to face the consequences, you know that, or they won’t learn their lesson.”

“I know Hermione…” I sighed slowly, laying the book across my stomach and pushing my fingers through my hair, “What they have to do seems a bit harsh, though…yeah, there’s a first time to learn something and I know you like Lockhart and everything, but c’mon, Hermione, the man’s conceded and extremely obnoxious…he doesn’t even really listen when someone else talks unless they’re praising him and sometimes I think he just talks because he likes hearing his own voice.”

“That isn’t true.” Hermione said scathingly, frowning deeply and narrowing her eyes angrily, “Lockhart is a good, brave man that has done a lot of things to help a lot of people, you just haven’t taken the time to get to know him properly. I knew Harry and Ron were close-minded, but I hadn’t thought you were, too.”

With that, Hermione turned and marched away with her nose in the air, stomping upstairs to our dormitory. I watched her go quietly and sighed, sliding down in my chair tiredly as I pulled off my glasses and rubbed the bridge of my nose. I’d always hated making people angry, particularly my best friends, but I knew Hermione was just so blinded by her faith in Lockhart that she couldn’t see the person he really was. Yes, it was true that I always tried to get to know a prson, give them time to actually show me who they were, but no matter how much time I gave Lockhart, he always showed the same long-winded, conceded man that we’d first met at Blourish and Blotts in Diagon Alley. I’d read his books, yes, but they just seemed more like a way for him to brag about how great he is and talk only about himself rather than tell anyone about ways to defend themselves against magical creatures. And after that, I just couldn’t bring myself to see Lockhart any other way.

Pushing my glasses back up my nose, I picked my book back up to attempt to distract myself once more; I wanted to be sure that Harry and Ron came back to the dormitory safe and sound.

The next time I looked up, however, it was half past eleven and I was starting to really get worried. My stomach twisted uneasily as my mind stated playing out the worst scenarios of what could have happened, prompting me to go out and see what could be going on. Marking my page in my book, I brought it up to the dormitory to put it away again and grab my Invisibility Cloak, not wanting to have to be the next one to be forced to have to spend an entire evening with Lockhart if I was caught outside the dorm after hours.

I glanced over toward Hermione’s bed as I pulled the cloak around my shoulders, frowning deeply to myself and sighing. Even if we had different views on certain things, Hermione and I were still best friends and I didn’t want to lose her over something as stupid as our views on some pretty boy teacher. I would apologize to her in the morning.

Nodding quietly to myself in agreement, I made sure I had my wand safely tucked away in the pocket of my jeans an pulled my cloak up over my head, making sure it completely covered my body before I slipped silently out of the dormitory. The rest of the Gryffindors had all gone up to bed by this point, making it easier to step out of the portrait hole into the darkened corridors just outside.

The rest of the castle was just as deserted as the common room, my own companions composing of the painted characters in the pictures that lined the walls, most of whom were either asleep or just starting to doze off for the night. Most of them were shrouded in shadows thrown from the lit torches placed strategically along the walls, giving them a rather eerie appearance in the process; the only sounds aside from my footsteps against the stairs were their soft snores and murmurs, a few of them jolting awake and blinking around blurredly, asking who was there as I moved past. I didn’t answer, just continued as my way without a word, determined to get to Lockhart’s office and back as quickly as possible.

I took as many short cuts as I could to get to the second-floor corridor as quick as possible, only running into a few ghosts along the way, the most benign of the bunch, so I was able to get past them with little trouble, thankful for the fact that I was able to avoid running into Peeves, who would’ve given me a who lot more trouble. I was still cautious enough not to dilly dally for too long in one area, however, knowing my luck wouldn’t hold out for me forever; the uneasily eerie feeling that crawled up my spine at the abnormal stillness of the castle was another prompting factor to get me moving, knowing the sooner I got Harry, the sooner we would be safe back in our own dormitories.

I tried telling myself it was a normal feeling with these old castles, knowing there were too many people, living and dead, around for any possible intruder to do anything, even if they were able to perform magic. There were still enchantments, way too many possible ways for an intruder to get lost in here if they didn’t know the proper way around. And yet, even knowing all that, did nothing to sooth the uneasy feeling knotting my stomach and making my skin crawl fearfully.

Reaching the second floor corridor, I sped up my walk when Lockhart’s classroom door came into view, my own footsteps echoing in my ears, my heart pounding in my chest as I hoped and prayed that Harry would still be inside; I honestly didn’t think I would be able to walk back to the tower by myself, not right now, not with that –

Suddenly, something caught my ear, sounding soft in comparison to the thundering noise of my shoes on the stone floor and the pounding of my heart. Desite myself, I slowed down to a stroll, frowning deeply in an effort to hear what it could be, my heart rate rising rapidly in response, although it abruptly stopped and sank like a cold stone into the pit of my stomach in realization –

A voice of icy venom bounced off my ear drums, so soft it wouldn’t even echo off the surrounding walls or ceiling, sending a cold chill down my spine and causing all the hair on my body to stand on end in response.

“Come….to me…I want to rip you….I want to tear you….Kill you…”

Breath catching in my throat, my body immediately tensing, as though out of instinct; forcing myself to take a few quick breathes, I grabbed the wand from my back pocket, letting my eyes dart over every inch of the corridor. There had to be someone there, there had to be if someone spoke…that voice couldn’t’ve come from no where. This voice was too terrifying to even been created by magic.

Clutching my wand tightly in one hand until my fingers hurt, I practically took off down the corridor toward Lockhart’s classroom, my heart jumping in my chest as I fought hard not to panic. I reached the classroom door and grabbed for the handle frantically, just wanting to get inside, be around someone else, anyone else, I didn’t even care if I had to be around Lockhart right now, I just couldn’t be alone, not now, I couldn’t –

Ramming into something thin, yet solid, I fell back on the floor, panting heavily as I looked up to see what I had run into, my mind racing as I tried to think of a spell to defend myself. Some of the panic left me, however, when I spotted Harry step out of the classroom, looking around quickly to find whatever had run into him, glancing down as he heard my heavy breathing.

“Chey?” he whispered quizzically as he moved to reach out for where he thought I would be, obviously knowing I was using my Invisibility Cloak. I pulled it off instead, staring up at him as my sides continued to heave due to my heavy breathing. He frowned at me, offering a hand to help me up, which I took gratefully. “What the heck are you doing here? Did something happen?”

“I-I….I was worried….I didn’t….you weren’t back yet and I wanted to make sure you were all right.” I managed to get out, shaking heavily as I glanced over my shoulder at the dark corridor behind me, “But then I….there was this voice….I heard this voice that scared me to my core. I didn’t know what it was –“

“You heard it, too?” Harry asked, gently gripping my shoulders and pulling me around to face him again. I stared at him wide eyed, my mouth gaping in surprise. “Chey, calm down, it’s okay, I promise you’re not going crazy, I heard it, too, just back in Lockhart’s office. But he didn’t, I don’t know why….”

We both jumped at the sound of Lockhart dropping something in the office behind Harry, whirling around to look, Harry gripping his wan tightly out of reflex. Both of us slowly relaxed when we realized we weren’t in an immediate danger and let out slow breathes before he turned back to me, taking my hand.

“C’mon, let’s get back to the common room.” He said softly, closing the classroom door behind him as we headed back for the tower. Without a word, we headed upstairs to his dormitory, where Harry and I quietly climbed into his four poster, closing all but one curtain as we sat up together to talk about what we’d heard, trying to figure out what it was we had heard.

A half hour passed before the strong smell of polish drifted into the dormitory, announcing Ron’s arrival before he even stepped through the door, nursing his right arm.

“All my muscles have seized up.” he groaned in pain, sinking into his mattress. “I had to buff up this special Quidditch cup fourteen times before Filch was satisfied, then he had me clean off this Special Award for Services to the School after I had another slug attack all over it. I took ages to try and get all the slim off….anyway, how was Lockhart?”

Speaking in low voices so as not to wake Neville, Dean, and Seamus, Harry and I told Ron about the voice we had heard.

“So…the two of you heard this voice, but Lockhart didn’t?” Ron asked, raising his eyebrows and frowning deeply as he rubbed his arm slowly. “D’you think he could’ve been lying then? But then there’s one thing I don’t understand….how could both of you heard the same voice both inside Lockhart’s office and out in the corridor….at the same time?”

Both Harry and I looked at one another silently, having wondered the exact same thing, knowing it couldn’t’ve been just one person if Harry and I had heard the same voice in two different places. Neither of us knew how to answer the question, though, and finally just sighed, shaking our heads.

“We don’t know….”


	8. Deathday Party

A damp chill settled in over the grounds as we transitioned into October, a chill that would proceed to slither it’s way into the castle, causing a string of colds to break out among the student and teacher population and keeping our school nurse, Madam Pomfrey, quite busy. Her remedy for the problem came in the form of her Pepperup potion, which immediately cursed any and all symptoms from the body, the only drawback being that the drink was left smoking at the ears for several hours after the potion was taken. One such person to have to take the remedy was Ginny Weasley, who was bullied into it by Percy when he noticed she had been looking quite pale as of late, which caused the smoke bellowing out from under her vivid hair to make it appear as though her whole head was on fire.

With the changing season came a change in weather, from bright, cold days to overcast, rainy ones that produced large, heavy raindrops to pour down upon the castle, thundering against the castle windows for days at a time; the heavy rain caused the lake to overflow it’s banks, while the flower beds were turned into muddy streams and Hagrid’s pumpkins grew in size to resemble the size of garden sheds. Despite the desolate weather, however, Oliver Wood’s enthusiasm to keep up with regular Quidditch training could not be dampened, which is how Harry and I found ourselves in the later part of the afternoon on the Saturday before Halloween trudging into the shelter of the castle to return to Gryffindor Tower, weather beaten and tired, drenched to the bone with rain water and splattered from head to foot in mud.

“That practice went well, didn’t it?” I muttered sarcastically to my best friend as I squeezed some water from my hair and moved a couple of strands plastered to my forehead away as we climbed the grand staircase; Harry snorted his agreement, sighing heavily. Our practice today had been bad enough with the horrible weather, but what really had taken the cake had been Fred and George’s reports about what they had, or rather, hadn’t, seen when they’d gone to spy on the Slytherin team to see how their new brooms were faring. According to the twins, they hadn’t see anything more than seven greenish blurs shooting through the air like a team of missiles. That certainly was a reassuring sign, wasn’t it?

I sighed to myself as Harry and I followed the deserted corridors, our shoes squelching loudly in the silence, echoing off the stone walls on either side of us as we came across one of the school ghosts, or, more precisely, the Gryffindor house ghost himself, Nearly Headless Nick. We approached the phantom, opening our mouths to greet him when we suddenly noticed the preoccupied expression on his face as he stared morosely through the glass of one of the castle windows, watching the rain pelt the grounds outside and turn them into muddy, knee deep pools. His transparent brows were furrowed deeply, his jaw line set as he muttered to himself under his breath.

“Nearly Headless Nick?” I called tentatively as we reached him, looking up at him with furrowed brows myself. He gave a small jump and turned at the sound of his name, greeting the two of us friendly; my eyes immediately caught sight of the dashing plumed hat that sat atop his long, curly hair and I gave a small smile, thinking it matched the tunic he wore under his ruff, which concealed the fact that his head was almost completely severed from his body. Just like the other ghosts that inhabited the castle, he was as pale as smoke, yet transparent enough to where Harry and I could look right through him at the storm lashing at the window. In his hand he held a letter, which he tucked away in his doublet.

“The two of you look troubled…” He said softly, taking notice of our drenched, muddy clothing and hair, which was sticking to our foreheads and necks in wet strands.

“Not as troubled as you.” I pointed out, frowning a little deeper as I eyed where he’d hidden his letter away before flicking my gaze back up to his face, “Is something the matter?”

“Ah, no, it is not terribly important,” Nearly Headless Nick said dismissively, waving his hand in an elegant manner with a sigh, “It is simply a personal issue of which I am unable to amend myself….although it is not as though my afterlife depended on whether or not I joined it….I still applied because I wished to, but apparently I do not ‘meet their requirements’ –“

Harry and I blinked a little and looked at one another confusedly, wondering what he could be talking about, but the ghost, apparently obliviously to our confusion, just continued to blather bitterly as though he had been wishing to get his troubles off his chest for a while now.

“One would think, however,” he continued, his voice raising in anger as he pulled the letter from his pocket once more, “that being subjected to the brutal act of being stricken fourty-five times in the neck by a blunt axe would qualify one for the Headless Hunt!”

“Erm….yes?” I said slowly, unsure what Nearly Headless Nick could mean, yet not wishing to get caught in the cross hairs of his anger and deciding it would probably just be best to agree with him without putting up too much of a fight.

“I mean, honestly, no one else wishes my execution could have been quick and clean more than I do, nor does anyone else wish my head had come off properly more than I, it would’ve really saved me so much pain and ridicule as a ghost. And yet –“ Shaking the letter open furiously, Nearly Headless Nick began to read it aloud to us:

“ ‘Unfortunately, the members of the Headless Hunt can only accept huntsmen whose heads have been properly parted from their bodies. I’m sure you would be able to appreciate the complications it would bring if a member that still has an attached head tried to participate in our usual hunting activities, such as Horseback Head-Juggling and Head Polo. It is with our deepest regret, therefore, that I am inclined to inform you that you do not meet out requirements. We wish you the very best, Sir Patrick Delaney-Podmore.’ “

Still fuming, Nearly Headless Nick stuffed the letter back into his pocket.

“There is still only half an inch of skin and sinew that holds my neck on my body, Harry, Cheyenne!” He ranted while I stuck out my tongue and suppressed the grossed out shudder threatening to roll down my spine, “Most would think that’s good and beheaded, but apparently it isn’t good enough for Sir Properly Decapitated-Podmore!”

Nearly Headless Nick had to stop and close his eyes to take a couple of deep breathes in order to calm himself down before he opened them once more and addressed the two of us, “So, what’s been bothering the two of you? Is there a way I would be able to help?” He asked with a small, helpful smile. Harry and I sighed together, shaking our heads.

“I’m afraid not…” I told him discouragingly, frowning, “Not unless you’re able to find us eight free Nimbus Two Thousand and Ones before our match against Sly –“

A high-pitching mewling somewhere by my ankles cut off the rest of my sentence and I tensed immediately, my eyes widening as I lowered my gaze to the floor, only to find a pair of lamp-like yellow eyes staring back up at me; my breath caught in my throat as Harry cursed under his breath at the sight of the caretaker, Argus Filch’s, skeletal gray cat, Mrs. Norris, both of us knowing if she was around we would be in a world of trouble very very soon. Both caretaker and pet were despised by the entire student body at Hogwarts as both worked together to make our lives here as miserable as they possibly could.

“I would get out of here as quick as you both possibly could, Harry, Cheyenne,” Nick warned us in a low voice, eying the creature disdainfully, “Filch is in a rather foul mood today – he’s caught the flu that’s been going around and apparently some third year students accidentally plastered the ceiling of dungeon five with frog brains. He’s been down there all morning cleaning and I he were to see either of you dripping mud like this –“

“Y-yeah…” I said quickly as Harry and I backed away from Mrs. Norris, who was pinning us with sharp, accusing yellow eyes, flicking her tail slowly back and forth, although neither of us was quick enough to escape. Drawn by the strange force that seemingly connected him to his foul cat, Argus filch burst suddenly out into the corridor from being a tapestry just to our right, making us jump and turn to face him as he bent over in front of us, his loud wheezes the only other noise in the corridor as he stared wildly around for the trouble-maker. A thick tartan scarf was wrapped securely around his head and his nose had turned an unusual shade of purple.

“Filth!” He shouted upon noticing the muddy puddle Harry and I had created on the floor where we had been standing not seconds before, his eyes growing wide and his jowls quivering with his anger. “Mess, muck everywhere! I have had it up to here with this, it is the final straw, I tell you! Both of you follow me!”

Looking at one another miserably, Harry and I waved gloomily to Nearly Headless Nick as we followed Filch back downstairs, unfortunately adding to the muddy mess we had made on the floors on our way in.

Neither Harry nor I had ever entered Filch’s office until today, although it was the one place no student ever wished to go near. It was a small, dingy room with no windows, lit only by a single oil lamp that dangled from the low ceiling. When we stepped inside, I could smell the faintest whiff of fish that seem to linger, possibly from Filch’s lunch or dinner. Against the walls stood groups of wooden filing cabinets, each labeled with the names of every student Filch had ever punished. Fred and George looked to have their very own drawer in one of the cabinets. Hung on the wall behind Filch’s desk was a collection of highly polished chains and manacles, which made me tense immediately, knowing it was Filch’s dearest wish to be able to suspend the students from the ceiling by their ankles.

Taking a quill from the little pot on his desk, Filch began shuffling about to find a piece of parchment to write on.

“Dung,” he cursed angrily under his breath as he looked, “giant sizzling dragon boogies….frog brains…rat intestines....I've had enough of this...I will make an example of them…now where’re those forms? Ah, yes…”

Retrieving a couple of large rolls of parchment from one of his desk drawers, Filch stretched it out before himself and dipped the end of his long black quill into his ink pot.

“Name(s):…Harry Potter and Cheyenne Power. Crime…”

“Si-sir please, we weren’t t-t-trying t-to cause a-an-any trouble, r-really…” I said quickly, chewing my bottom lip anxiously as I did. “W-w-we only tr-tra-cked in a-a bit o-o-of m-mu-mud.”

“It may only seem like a bit of mud to the two of you, but it is so much more to me! All that filth will result in an extra hour of scrubbing for me!” Filch shouted as he turned scathing eyes on the two of us, a few drops of snot gathering unpleasantly at the end of his nose as he returned his attention to the parchments. “Crime…befouling the castle…suggested sentences…”

Wiping the drip from his nose, Filch squinted up at Harry and I thoughtfully, both of us shifting under his piercing gaze as we waited to hear what punishment he would bestow upon us.

However, just as Filch was lowering his quill, a great BANG! echoed out from above, the oil lamp swinging dangerously with the force of whatever had been dropped, throwing shadows all across the room as the three of us jumped and looked up.

“PEEVES!” Filch roared furiously as he glared at the stone ceiling, throwing his quill down in his rage, “I’ll get you for it this time, you’ll be out of this castle by tonight!”

Without so much as glance in either my or Harry’s direction, the caretaker took off running out of the office with Mrs. Norris hot on his heels.

Peeves, a small, grinning, airborne menace who thrived on havoc and chaos, was the school’s poltergeist. Although neither Harry nor I much fancied the ghost seeing as how he was such a little pest at times, both of us were still somewhat grateful to him for inexplicitly coming to our rescue. Hopefully whatever he had done or wrecked (which had sounded quite big judging by how loud that crash had been) it would distract Filch from Harry and I enough to where we would be able to avoid a severe punishment, although neither of us was willing to risk Filch’s wrath again if we tried to escape.

With conceding sighs, the two of us sank into a pair of moth-eaten chairs sitting next to the desk and waited, glancing around the small office quietly; aside from the two partially finished forms sitting on Filch’s desk, there was a large, glossy purple envelope with silver lettering perched on one corner by the ink well. Harry and I looked at one another curiously, wondering what it could be about and if we should read it; after a quick discussion and with a quick glance over our shoulders to make sure Filch wasn’t on his way back, Harry picked up the envelope to read:

KWIKSPELL  
A Correspondence Course in Beginners’ Magic

My interest was immediately caught and I leaned over to read along with Harry as he shook the envelope open and pulled out the folded parchment from within. The words on the front page were written in shiny silver ink by a intricate hand:

Feeling out of touch with the modern magical world? Finding yourself making up excuses not to even use simple spells? Have you ever been taunted for a lack of precise wandwork?

Well, we have a solution for you!

Kwikspells is a brand-new, fail-safe, quick-result, easy-learn course. Hundreds of witches and wizards with difficulty performing magic have really benefited from our Kwikspell method!

Madam Z. Nettles of Topshame says:

“I’ve never had the memory for incantations and my family has made jokes about my potions! But after using the Kwikspell course, I’ve become the center of attention at parties and friends are always begging for my Scintillation Solution recipe!”

Warlock D.J. Prod of Didsbury writes:

“My wife always used to sneer at my feeble attempts at charm work, but after just a month of using the Kwikspell course, I’ve been able to successfully turn her into a yak! Thank you, Kwikspell!”

I moved to sit back in my seat as I finished reading this, furrowing my brows a little over the bridge of my nose in thought as I turned this new information over in my mind; why would Filch want to take a course like Kwikspell’s? Was he not truly a wizard himself then if he had to rely on such a thing? Could it be that Filch was a -?

My thoughts were suddenly interrupted at the distinct sound of shuffled feet out in the corridor, Filch’s low, greasy voice talking excitedly to Mrs. Norris drawing closer to the door. Quickly nudging Harry and giving him a big, wide-eyed look as he turned to me indignantly, I pointed wordlessly to the door, watching his eyes dart in that direction before his eyebrows shot up in understanding and he hastily stuffed the parchment back into it’s envelope before tossing it back onto the desk while the door opened behind us.

Filch shuffled into the office with a bright, excited face, nearly all this teeth showing with how wide he was grinning, a gleam in his eye similar to that of a child on their birthday.

“We’ll have Peeves tossed out this time, my sweet,” he said gleefully to his cat, “After destroying such a valuable piece of furniture like the vanishing cabinet, there’s no way Dumbledore will –“

His sentence immediately cut off as soon as he spotted Harry and I waiting for him by his desk, his eyes immediately darting to the misplace Kwikspell envelope, which, Harry and I were just realizing with lurching hearts, lay two feet from where it had originally been resting.

A bright red tint filled Filch’s pasty face as he hobbled across to his desk, Harry and I waiting with baited breath for the tidal wave of fury to crash down over us as we watched him snatch up the letter and throw it into one of his drawers before slamming it shut and whirling on the two of us once more.

“Did either of you – have you read -?” he sputtered wildly, glaring at the two of us.

“N-no, si-sir!” Harry and I denied quickly, shaking out heads while Filch twisted his thin, knobbly hands together.

“If I were to find that either of you were to read my private – I-I mean, no, it isn’t mine – it’s for a friend – but that isn’t – just –“

Neither Harry nor I were entirely sure how we should react as we watched Filch in alarm, seeing the maddened look in his wide, popping eyes like no one had ever likely seen before. A noticeable tick was going on one of his pouchy cheeks and the tartan scarf only seemed to add a certain strange quality to the madness that radiated from him in that moment.

“V-very well – the two of you are free to go – just don’t ever breath a word – it isn’t mine, of course – but just, just leave. I have to write up this report on Peeves –“

Inwardly amazed at the fortunate turn of events, I felt Harry grab my hand and pull me quickly out of the office, leading the way up the corridor and back upstairs. It had to be some kind of a record for the two of us to be able to escape Filch’s office without receiving punishment.

“Harry! Cheyenne! Are you both all right?”

The two of us paused and turned at the sound of our names, spotting Nearly Headless Nick gliding toward us out of one of the classrooms, where we could clearly see the wreckage of, what had once been, a beautiful black-and-gold cabinet that had, apparently, been dropped from a great height.

“I managed to persuade Peeves to crash that cabinet right above Filch’s office,” Nick told us eagerly, giving a small smile. “I thought it would help distract him –“

“That was you who caused that?” I asked with a growing smile, looking gratefully up at the ghost and heaving a great, relieved sigh, “Wow, you have no idea just how much that helped us out, Nick, thank you so much! That really saved Harry and I from having to serve detention.”

The three of us set of up the corridor together; I noticed out of the corner of my eye that Nearly Headless Nick was still holding tight to Sir Patrick’s rejection letter and I felt a twinge of sympathy for the ghost.

“I’m sorry neither Harry nor I could pay you back, Nick…If we could, we’d help you with your problem concerning the Headless Hunt….” I told him softly, looking up at him with a small, apologetic smile. The ghost, however, began to slow his stride until he came to a stop at my words; neither Harry nor I were expecting such a thing and accidentally walked right through him. A shudder worked its way through my body at the feeling of ice that spread throughout every fiber of my being, all the hair immediately standing on end in response.

“Well, actually, there is something the two of you would be able to do for me,” Nick said, a slow, excited smile stretching across his features as he regarded us. “Harry, Cheyenne, I hope this isn’t asking too much, but – uh, no, I suppose neither of you would want to –“

“Want to…what?” I asked him with a small smile, encouraging him to continue with his train of thought rather than let it drop, willing to listen to what he was about to suggest.

“Well…this Halloween is going to be my five hundredth deathday,” Nick told us proudly, drawing himself up in a very dignified manner while Harry cocked his head curiously and I blinked a little, humming.

“Are you…celebrating it like you would a birthday?” I asked timidly, hoping I wouldn’t offend Nick in any way by asking such a question. Nick bobbed his head a little in response, “In some ways, yes. I’ll be hosting a party for it down in one of the larger dungeons on that night. Friends from across the country will be attending and I was just…well…I would be honored if the two of you would attend as well. Mr. Weasley and Miss Granger are both more than welcome to come as well – but, then, I suppose the two of you would much rather go to the feast than attend my party…” he sighed slowly, giving the two of us a small, apologetic smile.

“Oh no, Nick,” I said quickly, waving a hand with a small smile, trying to sooth away the saddened look in the ghost’s eye, “This party actually sounds quite fascinating and fun, too, so we would be more than happy to come –“

“My dear girl!” Nick exclaimed boisterously, a smile stretching the length of his pale, transparent face, “That is the best news I have heard all day, thank you! Harry Potter and Cheyenne Power, at my deathday part! Oh –“ he paused for a moment as a thoughtful look enveloped his face before he turned to the two of us pleadingly, “Erm, if it wouldn’t be too much trouble while you’re both there, would you be able to mention to Sir Patrick just how frightening and impressive the two of you find me?”

“O-oh, erm, sure?” Harry said uncertainly, giving a small smile while Nick positively beamed at the two of us.

~~

“A deathday party?” Hermione parroted back keenly in the common room when Harry and I had joined her and Ron after showering and changing into fresh, clean clothes. “Oh, that does sound fascinating, I bet not many living people can really say they’d been to one before – it must be really interesting!”

“Who could possibly want to celebrate the day they died?” Ron muttered grumpily from his seat on the floor by the fire, glancing up from his half finished Potions’ homework. ‘It doesn’t sound all that fun, it sounds depressing!”

The constant pitter of rain on the window still kept us company as we sat doing our homework, the sky outside now painted a deep inky black while the inside of the tower was kept bright and cheerful. A crackling fire lit up the hearth, casting light over the countless squashy armchairs occupied by the other students sitting around reading, talking, or doing homework like us. There were others, though, like the Weasley twins, who were more interesting in finding out the end result of feeding a Filibuster firework to a salamander. Fred had apparently ‘rescued’ the bright orange, fire-dwelling creature from his Care of Magical Creatures class and was now standing back watching as it smoldered gently on the table top, surrounded by a knot of curious Gryffindors.

Just as Harry and I were about to tell Ron and Hermione about the Kwikspell course we had found in Filch’s office, the salamander suddenly whizzed off into the air, loud sparks and bangs emitting from it’s small body as it whirled wildly about the room. With the combination of Percy yelling himself hoarse at Fred and George, the spectacular display of tangerine stars that showered out from the salamander’s mouth, and then the lizard’s escape into the fire amid a collection of explosions, Filch and his Kwikspell letter were quickly dashed from both our minds for the night.

~~

By the time Halloween night rolled around, Harry was starting to have second thoughts about accepting Nick’s invitation to the deathday party while the rest of the school went about happily anticipating the annual Halloween feast in the Great Hall, which had been decorated with it’s usual live bats and Hagrid’s vast pumpkins carved into lanterns large enough to fit three grown men. Rumors even spread about Dumbledore booking a troupe of dancing skeletons for entertainment.

“Harry, we promised Nick we would attend his party, we can’t back out on it now.” I told him gently when he confessed his regret to me late Halloween afternoon, sighing heavily and glancing away at my words. I touched his shoulder, smiling softly, “Look, we could always compromise, what if we went to the deathday part for just anhour or two and then we left? Then we could go to both.”

Seeming to perk up a little at this, Harry readily agreed to the compromise, smiling gratefully at me while I squeezed his shoulder.

At seven o’clock that night, Harry, Ron, Hermione, and I passed the doorway to the Great Hall to head for the dungeons, glancing enviously in at the chattering crowds seated around the house tables, which were decorated with glittering gold plates and candles.

The passageway that led us in the direction of Nearly Headless Nick’s party was lined with long, thin, jet-black candles that flickered with bright blue light that cast a dim light over everything, giving even the four of us a rather ghostly glow as we moved further down. The temperature around us seemed to drop tremendously with each step we took until each of us could almost see our breathes bellowing out in front of our faces with each exhale while our ears were assaulted with an awful noise like that of thousands of fingernails being scraped across an enormous blackboard.

“Is that…their music?” Ron whispered as we turned a corner; the corridor ended in a single, open doorway draped in black velvet, beside which Nearly Headless Nick was standing.

“Welcome, my dear friends,” he greeted us mournfully. “I am so pleased you could come…”

Sweeping his plumed hat from his head, he bowed us inside.

The dungeon was filled with hundreds of pearly-white, translucent people, most of which were drifting about a crowded dance floor, waltzing to the dearly unpleasant noises being produced by the thirty saws manipulated by the orchestra up on a raised, black-draped platform. Hanging from the ceiling was a chandelier blazing midnight-blue from another thousand black candles. I tugged my cloak closer in an attempt to preserve body heat, feeling as though I’d just stepped into a freezer as I glanced around at the different ghosts through the clouds I was producing with my breath.

“Erm…shall we have a look around?” Harry asked quickly, shifting a little uneasily, obviously trying to keep himself moving so he wouldn’t start losing feeling in any of his limbs. I stretched and moved my own toes to keep the blood flowing, already feeling the cold starting to seep in through my shoes.

“Yeah…we’d just got to be careful not to walk through anyone…” Ron said as he glanced around nervously, bringing up the rear as we moved around the edge of the dance floor to pass a group of gloomy looking nuns, a rather ragged man weighed down with chains, and the Fat Frair, the cheerful, friendly ghost of Hufflepuff, who seemed to be chatting pleasantly with a knight who had an arrow sticking out of the middle of his forehead. Off to the side stood the Bloody Baron, a gaunt, staring ghost that belonged to Slytherin house, his usual bright, silver bloodstains glinting in the faint light as he moved, watching the others around him enjoy the party while giving him a wide berth.

“Oh no,” Hermione groaned as she came to an abrupt stop, causing Harry to nearly run into her. “Quick turn back, I don’t want to have to talk to Moaning Myrtle –“

“Who?” Harry asked as he allowed himself to be shoved back in the opposite direction, glancing back at Hermione and I as a frown tugged at the corners of my lips and I let out a low sigh.

“She’s a ghost that haunts one of the toilets in the girls’ bathrooms on the first floor.” I said, shaking my head while Harry and Ron gave the two of us incredulous looks, seemingly surprised at the notion that a toilet could actually be haunted. “She’s kept that bathroom out of order all year long with her tantrums, flooding it all the time and just going off at every little thing. It wasn’t exactly the best place to use in the first place, especially with her wailing and crying….”

“Look, they’ve got food!” Ron said suddenly, pointing toward the long table covered in black velvet on the other side of the dungeon, which we headed toward eagerly, our stomach rumbling. We stopped in our tracks, however, when a foul smell hit our noses and we caught sight of what exactly had been laid out; rotten fish were laid out on handsome silver platters alongside large, charcoal colored cakes and a great maggoty haggis, a slab of furry green mold that had once been cheese. And sitting in the very middle of the table, in the place of honor, was an enormous gray, tombstone shaped cake decorated with tar-like icing that read:

Sir Nicholas De Mimsy-Porpington  
Died 31st October, 1492

Fighting the bile threatening to raise in my throat, I turned to watch in amazement as a portly ghost came up alongside us at the table, crouching low enough to where he could pass through it with his mouth open over one of the old, reeking salmon.

“Sir…are…are you able to taste the food if you pass through it?” I asked him softly, cocking my head a little as I looked up at him. He glanced at me and gave a small, sad shrug as he moved back off into the crowd.

“Hmm…they must’ve let this food go bad to give it a bit of a stronger flavor…” Hermione said thoughtfully, wrinkling her nose as she leaned in close to examine the putrid haggis.

“Could we move, I’m starting to feel sick…” Ron groaned, already beginning to turn a pale shade of green.

We had barely moved when a small man suddenly swooped out from under the table and came to a stop in midair before us. I inwardly groaned at the familiar wide, wicked black eyes and the Cheshire cat like grin spreading his face.

“Hello Peeves…” Harry and I greeted cautiously.

Quite unlike the rest of the ghosts, Peeves the Poltergeist was nearly the exact opposite of pale and transparent, with his bright orange party hat and revolving gag bow tie. He grinned at the four of us wickedly, cocking his head as he offered us some fungus covered peanuts from the bowl in his hands, which we declined as politely as possible. He pulled the bowl back toward him, slowly swishing the peanuts around inside it.

“I heard the two of you,” he looked at Hermione and I with dancing black eyes, “talking quite rudely about poor Myrtle, yes?” Taking a deep breath, he bellowed out for the female ghost while Hermione and I tried to stop him, albeit too late as the squat ghost glided toward us, staring gloomily up at all of us from under a curtain of lank black hair and thick pearly glasses.

“What do you want?” She asked in a low, dead voice.

“Ah, h-how’re you doing today Myrtle?” I asked her with a small, unsure smile, cocking my head a little as I regarded her friendlily. “It’s, uh, nice to see you venturing out of your toilet and socializing a little.”

Myrtle regarded me coldly and sniffed.

“Miss Granger and Miss Power were just talking about you –“ Peeves told her slyly, grinning wickedly at her.

“Oh, it wasn’t anything bad,” Hermione said quickly, shaking her head as I glared heatedly at Peeves, telling him to just leave the poor girl alone, knowing she had low enough self esteem without him adding fuel to the fire, “We were just talking about how…pretty you look tonight?”

Myrtle narrowed her eyes at Hermione and I suspiciously, her frown deepening.

“You two were making un of me…” she said as her small eyes swelled rapidly with shiny silver tears.

“No Myrtle, we wouldn’t do anything like that,” I said quickly, shaking my head as I looked gently at her, frowning, “We really were talking about how nice you looked, weren’t we?” I looked beseechingly at Harry and Ron, raising my eyebrows quickly when the two boys just looked at me in confusion as Hermione elbowed them, hard, in the ribs until they finally caught on.

“Oh, yeah –“

“They were –“

“Oh, don’t bother lying to me,” Myrtle gasped as the tears cascaded down her face while Peeves cackled merrily behind her. “I’m not stupid, I know what everybody calls me behind my back! Fat Myrtle! Ugly Myrtle! Miserable, moaning, moping Myrtle!’”

“You can’t forget pimply!” Peeves hissed cruelly in her ear, making her burst into anguished, heaving sobs as she fled from the dungeons. Peeves shot after her with the bowl of peanuts still in hand, which he used as ammo to pelt her with as he shouted ‘pimply’ after her.

I sighed and hung my head, shaking it sadly, wondering how someone could be so cruel as to actually strive to make another cry for their own amusement.

“Are the four of you enjoying yourselves?”

I picked my head back up at the voice, giving Nearly Headless Nick a small smile and nodding along with Harry, Ron, and Hermione as they told him we were. He surveyed the roll, smiling proudly as he did.

“I must say, this isn’t too bad of a turnout,” he announced happily, crossing his arms. “Even the Wailing Widow from Kent has turned up for the party, which is quite the treat. It’s almost time for my speech, too, I’d best go inform the orchestra…”

Said orchestra, however, was already beginning to stop their playing as they and everyone else in the dungeon fell silent, excitement unfolding over their faces as the sound of a hunting horn blared throughout the room.

“Oh lords, here we go…” Nearly Headless Nick grumbled bitterly under his breath as a dozen ghost horses burst forth from one of the dungeon walls, each ridden by their own headless horseman. Nearly all the ghosts present burst into applause aside from the host, who regarded the group with cold, narrowed eyes, his face contorted in anger and irritation.

Galloping out into the middle of the dance floor, the horsemen pulled their steads to a stop, patting their necks as they reared and plunged energetically. Leading the pack was a large man holding his bearded head under one arm, the head which was currently blowing the hunting horn that had announced their arrival. Leaping from his hose, the ghost lifted his head high into the air to see over the crowd amid peals of laughter and strode toward Nearly Headless Nick while squashing his head onto what remained of his neck.

“Nick!” the man roared, smiling brilliantly. “How are you, sir? Still have your head attached to your body, I see!”

With a hearty guffaw, he clapped Nearly Headless Nick on the shoulder friendly.

“Yes…welcome Patrick…” Nick greets stiffly, eyeing him coldly.

“And what have we here? Live ‘uns!” Sir Patrick exclaimed loudly, spotting Harry, Ron, Hermione, and I in astonishment, giving a greatly exaggerated jump of surprise in order to cause his head to roll off his shoulder onto the floor and make the crowd burst into peals of laughter.

“Hm, yes, very amusing….” Nick said darkly, rolling his eyes.

“Oh, don’t mind Nick!” Sir Patrick shouted from the floor, smiling up at everyone, “He’s still just sore that we won’t allow him to join the Hunt! Could you blame us, though, I mean look at him –“

“E-erm, I-I think –“ Harry started hurriedly under Nick’s decidedly pleading gaze. “That Nick is a very scary, no, I mean –“

“Frightening ghost!” I continued for him, chewing my bottom lip, “yes, he’s a truly frightening and amazing –“

“Ha!” Sir Patrick interrupted with a great laugh, “Oh, I bet he’s asked the two of you to say that, didn’t he?”

“Ahem, if I could have everyone’s attention, please, it’s time for my speech!” Nearly Headless Nick called loudly to gain everyone’s attention as he strode toward the podium and climbed into the icy blue spotlight. Harry and I looked at one another then, sighing sadly in defeat.

“Now, my dear late, lamented lords, ladies, and gentlemen, it is with the greatest sorrow that I –“

Unfortunately for Nick, however, the crowd’s attention was once again diverted as Sir Patrick and the rest of the Headless Hunt began to play a game of Head Hockey. Trying vainly to regain his audience, Nearly Headless Nick was forced to give up when Sir Patrick’s head was sent sailing past him amid loud cheers.

Heaving a great, tired sigh, I crossed my arms over my chest and snuggled close to Harry in hopes of finding some source of warmth as I was beginning to lose all feeling in my fingers and toes, my stomach complaining loudly for food.

“I don’t think I’m going to be able to stand this much longer…” Ron groaned around his chattering teeth, which was soon drowned out by the orchestra as it began to play again, prompting the ghosts around us to sweep back out onto the dance floor.

“Why don’t we just go?” I whispered softly, looking at the other three, who looked more than ready to get the heck out of here and back upstairs.

Backing quietly toward the door, the four of us beamed and nodded at anyone who looked in our general direction as we slipped out of the dungeon, hurrying up the passageway toward the main part of the castle once more.

“Maybe if we hurry, we could get some pudding…” Ron said in a hopeful tone as he led the way toward the steps leading into the entrance hall.

A faint noise caught my ear; I slowed my stride and perked up my ears to listen, furrowing my eyebrows deeply.

“…rip…tear…kill…”

My heart immediately froze in my chest as ice rolled down my spine at the familiar voice I’d heard that night I’d gone to get Harry from his detention in Lockhart’s office.

Lungs constricting painfully, my breath coming out in ragged pants, I reached out automatically to clutch at Harry’s arm tightly for comfort, my eyes darting every which way to find the source of the disembodied voice, squinting at the shadows as I strained to hear where it could be coming from.

“Harry, Cheyenne?” Hermione’s voice called back to the two of us, but neither of us turned to acknowledge her, too busy staring around for the source of the voice, too busy trying to pinpoint it, “What’re -?”

“We’re hearing that voice again!” Harry said quickly, waving his hand to shush her so we could hear.

“So hungry…for so long…”

“Don’t either of you hear it?” I whispered breathlessly, turning urgently to Ron and Hermione, who immediately froze, staring at the two of us as though we’d both grown a second head.

“…kill…you must kill…”

The voice seemed to be drifting away, growing fainter with each passing moment, as though it was moving away, moving…up. Moving as one, Harry and I lifted our gazes to the shadowed ceiling above, our hearts pounding in unison as adrenaline surged through our systems, stomachs knotting and twisting sickly into pretzels; could the voice we were hearing be a phantom that could easily move through solid stone like the ones back at the deathparty we had just left behind?

“Come this way!” Harry and I told Ron and Hermione frantically as we grabbed one another’s hands and took off up the passage to the staircase, which we took two at a time into the entrance hall. The babble leaking out from the Great Hall was too loud for either of us to be able to hear the voice, so we hurried past it, sprinting up the marble staircase to the first floor instead. Ron and Hermione’s footsteps echoed off the stone floors close being us.

“Harry, Chey, what –“

“Be quiet for a minute!” I hissed, straining my ears for any trace of the voice, distinctly pinpointing it from somewhere on the floor just above growing fainter still even as we followed it: “…Blood…I smell it…so sweet…I SMELL BLOOD!”

My stomach dropped to the floor and I left it behind me at the bottom of one of the staircases we had to climb –

“Someone’s going to get hurt or…!” I called back to Ron and Hermione, ignoring the bewildered looks they shot Harry and I as we ran up the next flight of stairs we came across three at a time, trying to hear the voice over the pounding of our own footsteps and hearts –

Hurtling around the entire second floor with Ron and Hermione panting breathlessly behind us, neither Harry nor I stopped until we had skid around the corner that led to the last, deserted passage.

“Harry…Chey…just what…in the world was all that about?” Ron panted as he skid to a stop behind us, wiping the sweat from his face and frowning up at the two of us. “I couldn’t hear anything….”

I didn’t even hear Ron as I just stared down the corridor at the wall facing us, my eyes stretching wide as Hermione gave a great gasp and pointed in the same direction.

“Look!”

Shining high on the wall just ahead through the gloom and darkness between two of the tall glass windows were foot-high words painted in bright red lettering that shimmered ominously in the light being cast by the flaming torches.

THE CHAMBER OF SECRETS HAS BEEN OPENED. ENEMIES OF THE HEIR, BEWARE.

“Hey…what’s that thing…hanging underneath?” Ron asked in a wavering voice, gulping thickly as we cautiously approached the scene.

Clutching tight to Harry’s hand like a life line, I gulped as we edged closer, suddenly feeling something damp soaking into the soles of my shoes and socks; Harry’s body suddenly lurched and I quickly clutched at his arm with my other hand to steady him, letting my eyes drift down from the words painted on the wall to take in the large puddle of water seeping across the floor. Hermione clutched Harry’s other arm to keep him upright as we inched even closer, each of us fixing our eyes on the shadowed figure that hung just underneath the message. Squinting a little, the four of us inhaled sharply and leapt backward with a loud splash in realization.

Hanging stiff as a board with wide, staring eyes at the world around her with her tail stuck in the bracket of one of the torches was Filch’s cat, Mrs. Norris.

A few seconds ticked by in which all four of us could do nothing but stare; Ron was finally the one to break the silence, “We need to get out of here.”

“B-but…sh-shouldn’t we t-t-try to h-help -?” I whispered anxiously, glancing at my best friends; Ron shook his head.

“No, trust me, this is not the place we want to be found.”

Before any of us could think to move, however, a loud rumble like that of distant thunder suddenly echoed throughout the castle, indicating the end of the holiday feast. The sound of hundreds of feet echoed out from either side of the corridor in which we stood, feet climbing the stairs and stomping across the hard stone floors accompanied by laughter and chatter of the well-fed staff and students; within the next moment, the doors at either of the corridor were burst open and people came flooding out, trapping us in before we could get the chance to escape.

Everything suddenly stopped, however, as soon as the students leading the way through the corridor caught sight of the painted words and hanging cat, their eyes falling to Harry, Ron, Hermione, and I where we stood alone directly in the middle of everything. Those making up the bulk of the crowd pressed forward to see what was happening, soon falling silent as well.

And then, a single voice called out over the crowds, shattering the silence.

“Enemies of the Heir, beware!” There was a clear sneer in the familiar, drawling voice, “You’ll be next Mudbloods!”

My gaze fell on the pale blond Slytherin that had pushed his way to the front of the crowd, his cold gray eyes dancing, face flushing excitedly as he grinned at the hanging, immobilized figure that had once been Mrs. Norris.

 


End file.
